"hur jag fick dig att...."



I avoided the entire route like a plague, for as long as I could and then suddenly, I took my car for a stroll, at 20kmph in ‘the wrong lane’ – the same where my 20s were on a collision course at 200kmph in ‘the right one’ (??)

The place of my memory was same and different. Like a black and white kaleidoscope the scenes kept unfurling. Not a single nook or a corner is bereft of memories. As I take a left turn, I see the raven haired, saucer eyed, waif like girl laughing her head off UN-self-consciously and bam right on the next stop near that coffee shop, there she is… heart- broken, lost, biting on her lips to hold back the threatening deluge; and now walking out of the apartment building gate with all the false bravado of mid-20s and then its night time, there she is half-mad hailing a cab to get him to hospital on time…

That pagan spirit of that girl and the place still do a slow waltz of Brownian motion in the air and the sunshine bouncing off that balcony… It’s there if you look and hear closely.

It is big, impressive, and really quite lovely in its nostalgia. I can’t help but… hate it.

Maybe it’s for the best. The jagged imperfect perfection of my youth has been razed, but lives on in my head. “If time begets decay, then reverie provides respite, however brief”

The holograms spring back up unbidden as I remember; the feelings come pouring back, pure and unaltered. His eyes almost blood shot sparkle above his perfect nose and lips and I still know how to love.
                                                                                           
It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Too long really to go back pick up the puzzle pieces of whatever came before right now. Now, it is November of 2013 – two years shy of a decade since I moved out.  

It took just one afternoon, packed my things, my love and life and my humble self, up in a suitcase. Just one afternoon to re-locate my entire being. A kill shot, lest I linger and just stick around.  Live the Love.  Love that was tumultuous; ardently passionate, pregnant with juvenile bravado and razor honesty of self.

The light is ample while it lasts. Most days golden with a long slant to the light towards afternoon. The sky is as winter skies are. White on blue! Perfectly fairytaleish!
 

Everywhere the reminder: We are all here briefly, just this one time!  Karma and rebirth notwithstanding!

Dear Silence, fill me up!
 
Copyright © Neerja Yadav

2 comments:

GYPSIE SPIRIT said...

hmmm… how have you been?

Arti Honrao said...

Good to see that you are still writing :)


GBU
Arti