Of recoil and grace
June 2008: Late goodbye. A new ‘home’. New hopes and aspirations. Yet, a sense of being resigned to fate.
July 2008: Turns out home isn’t meant to be what it means. Strangely, a seemingly post-apocalyptic wasteland will have to suffice.
June 2009: An acceptance of sorts. Words to expression. All undone thanks to a certain unforeseeable event.
July 2009: Doubt. Questions v. Answers. Impulse. The Overture.
June 2010: The fire in the smoke. A ‘perfect’ circle. The theory is still just theory.
At around the same time last year, I was rather satisfied. This hadn’t happened in a long time. A visit from an old friend had kept me in check for I was on the verge of tearing things apart. My mind was clouded with thoughts, a little too much perhaps. That resulted in the creation of this blog, something to which I haven’t given much importance over the last two and a half months. My diary too has been in a similar state of neglect. Anyway, this period of calm last year was something that was supposed to help me as I would enter the second year of law school, something which I had to gear myself up for. However, a single incident changed all that. A world of ignorance, for the lack of a better term, came crashing down on me just a week before I returned to Gandhinagar. And to think that I had to spend that last week hiding gloom and having to appear to be in the best of spirits for the people around me. The return to Gandhinagar wasn’t very different either, but then I had to make it different, something to which I gave my all.
I was at a stage when I had to hide behind a veil, trying to find out what was it that was actually in my head. Questions, questions. If only some part of me could pop up and press the buzzer. But alas, I had no answers. All of a sudden, a thought that changed everything crept in. It was very indirect yet had a sense of finality associated with it. What it resulted in was an impulsive act that had to be done. There were glitches but I don’t think there are any regrets, like seriously.
Then came a time when giving shelter almost gave a major diversion away. As a defence mechanism, I had to admit to something which wasn’t true. That, however, didn’t stop me from trying to repeat it later. Thankfully, there was no need for the replay to run for me. All this as new set was formed. It was a set which gave out a feeling of completeness. Every element within was familiar, all but one. Prominent elements on the outside were just there, still given way more than necessary. I returned home a tad satisfied for a change, something which helped the mind a lot.
The New Year’s coming meant a return to Gandhinagar. This time, fate had more in store, things that couldn’t have been thought of by me at an earlier time. A new beginning for certain elements within resulted in too many unnecessary discussions. I, for one, had to agree, yet disagree. But then the sluggishness needed to be scripted out, and that was done, to no avail. The drama was yet to begin as things were to turn on their on their head. It all started with a few brief moments. Suddenly, the moments were becoming longer. Then just when there was a massive hullabaloo, I realised that something strange was happening. I had been struck by elemental oddness. It was a bolt from the blue. While it certainly was weird, I felt happy for absolutely no reason. I must admit that I had never felt this good about myself, ever. It was unbelievable. Yet, it was happening. And I was letting it happen.
Simultaneously, elementary unity was running on animal instinct, upsetting the established order, a fact that was conveniently overlooked. It was all about being there, yet not being there. It wasn’t wrong, it was completely elemental. We obviously can’t choose to ignore something elemental. For the ones that feel it the most, it is sinful. Sadly, when there is a disintegration of an institution, there are always reactions, which, by the way, are also elemental. But then where there is chaos, the elemental order can seldom prevail. These lead to more reactions which are trivially unhealthy. Impulsiveness from the outside affects the balance, cutting that fabric that should survive despite the ruins, something which stays imprinted in the mind.
Looking at conditions on the outside, there always is a sense of delicate calm. The instinct is dark but is deeply connected to happiness, something which is fair, at least on the face of it. Then there is the ultimate irony, that of continuity, which always has two sides, thanks to the phenomenon of interference being used to gather, without any rhyme or reason. Because of all this, there is a constant need for further enclosing the various chambers within, irrespective of what the consequences are. There always are casualties, good and bad. Consequence, you see, doesn’t occur inside, but outside. From inside, you can watch the world devoured in its pain.
The theory of cause and effect is always unfair and biased. That ought to change, now more than ever. Power should always be handled responsibly. A dream can’t be raised in the same place in which it was conceived, despite resistance from within. But then, logic isn’t always synonymous with the nuances of human nature. There is nothing wrong with hoping that the right thing will fall into the right place. There always is a thin line between chaos and order. A feeling of inevitability always results in the construction of one narrative or the other. Be it the losing battle of the conscious and the conscience, or the lie that tells the truth, these narratives are all a part of an implicit utopian dream, something which also explains impossibility and the pain that reminds. Castles made in the sand are bound to eventually melt into the sea, just like eggs can’t be unscrambled. All you can do is wonder as you wait for time to wait for you. Here I am, as I wonder about pain and time, and about memories; about the mystery of life and probably even how much of it can possibly remain. I wait. And I wonder.