I am running away from reality, as fast as i could.
and trying not to look back, so as to prevent my eye from tearing.
Depths of insanity - I
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Today was such a weird day for me.
During lunch, which is around 11:30 AM for me, is a time when I read random things on net while eating my lunch. This was when something stuck. Here is what I ended up writing.
I felt a spark leave my fingers as soon as I started writing down the words which had just started to swirl through my head. I chased that spark amidst swarming bodies, under the rocks and all around the place but never really did find it hiding anywhere. Was it because this monsoon midday breeze has already bought it for you? The spark that left my fingers found me once again but it had turned into a full blown flame and the only thing that I can do now is to get engulfed in the blazing flame and allow myself a sweet and hot surrender. Or was that your whispering in the wind that ignited the spark in the first place?
I stared at the opened notepad, sighed and gulped down lunch and got some work done for couple of hours. At around 1:30 I went for my afternoon coffee. I spilled some coffee on the counter and I wiped it with a tissue. Below is what came to my mind.
Black marble stares me back with a million eyes, grime glaring and droplets of water shimmering; I ran a damp tissue on the marble only to hear it squeak and moan in agony of being devoid of anything tangible strangely reflecting the state of my heart. The marble was my distant mirror; frustration a constant companion.
My mom generally packs some fruit for me to snack on. Today I had black grapes. It was around 3 PM when I started snacking on them and reviewing a document.
A drop of liquid squirted out of the fruit and got stuck to the lip like a clingy girlfriend. The plump of lips succinctly held the grape amidst them the drop if liquid still being as clingy as ever, had held a cigarette last night in same adoring fashion. The emitted smoke had formed a thin veil of mask hiding the plumpness and the beauty of the lips which was now moving around the fruit in a sensual manner. Can an object hold such a power as to make a stark distinction between sensually good and sinfully good?
I pinged a friend at this point checking if he wanted to pick up a coffee from coffee day. He wasn’t there and I gave up going since it was ridiculously hot outside. And then I wished I hadn’t looked out of the window.
Heat envelopes me in waves and I hear a distant cry of a wild bird. Window looks like a painting with constantly changing pictures. Heat permeated through the glass and continued to hit me in gentle blasts making tiny beads of perspiration appear and flow down in rivulets starting from base of my neck and running through my back. A whisper breaks the mute communication which I have been having with the horizon and the suddenness sends a tiny shiver through my spine which vibrates that bead of sweat. I look around to see a residue of an old dream managing to haunt me on a particularly warm monsoon afternoon, making me tremble for the lost time.
After this, I gave up distracting myself and listened to music in really loud volume and got work done. I still have five more of these “things” but its on a document saved in office computer. So more things tomorrow!