Destination: Luxurious Decadence of Orgasmic Peace



So the year ends!  A lot … and I mean A LOT happened this year.

I traveled through geographies (continents really), traversing breathing taking vistas to world-views, 
feelings and realms – it wasn’t a roller coaster ride, No! 

More like sailing.  On steroids.

Time runs marathons. I stop. Panting doubled over – catching my breath – at the beauty and clutter of all of this. Life, as it happens. Each moment defining the next.

As we began this year - with exploring the impulsive moments; playing dress up for New Year’s Dinner Date and impromptu drive for a bite at Mumbai’s Mondegar – I told myself I would be more present. 

More showing up – less careful planning and my list here feels like a pat on the back – more or less. Because first time in years did not finish my Reading Challenge 

I did a highlights timeline of these 12 months and it literally just fills up one page and I know I could write a book if I wanted to. But. Am Lazy and well Am a Memory Hoarder.

I don’t yet want to put it all out.

This year for the first time - felt like it was mine!  My time. My mindfulness.
My growing into myself year

Tiger Heart and Swan Vulnerability. Nagging doubts and the bourgeois vanity.

Gratified in knowledge that I could set pulses racing and turn heads and be completely grounded. 
Content that I could get giddy with adrenaline for blood and not be jaded.

Blasting the walls of my comfort zone – the cocoon no longer served its purpose - I met some amazing new people and learnt the topographies of new stories. The way someone’s nose crinkles and the way someone else’s laugh lifts off and how one person’s eyes light up when they talk about their children and how the other one’s dances when they talk about their passion of wine and yachts and the shift in the air when someone wants to kiss you or is about to confess something silly.  The easy camaraderie of colleagues to tense awkwardness of dates. 

The realisation that the little things still move or outrage me, was humbling. It was heartening to know – I could still make mistakes – too trusting sometimes, cynical in other moments. It was lovely to connect with the core, which still believed in the larger good of humanity – with a pinch of salt, of course! J

It takes commitment to show up every day – to show up in time to work on the person one is. It takes every fiber of one’s being in taking up responsibility to connect and to be detached. 

In accepting the dark and the light – all at once.

And in the year to come - I vow: 

·       To be vulnerable and

·       To keep the core resilient
·       To Learn
·       To make the remainder of this life a work of art

And… even with broken heart, perhaps despite that

·       To believe in Love – because really, what else is there?


Adios, 2018! You were a sine wave. You were glorious.


Copyright © Neerja Yadav



Because...



my desire for you
grows your hunger,
blink the night away
in a mad dance of inertia
of slow building tempest,

the ink of the your touch
tattooed on my skin
the smell of you 
stuck in my head 

spell-laden eyes

break them or don't 
go ahead

here i am
hopelessly entangled
in your bed... 

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

d.é.j.à. v.u. - a window ajar is a prelude to the joy of being limitless

I once began a love affair with Roark, the unapologetic almost a scruff silent ‘masochist’ of a man. Ask my teenage self and then ask again my 20s and even 30s – the answer would still be a wide dewy eyed , bobbing head, clamped hands YES!

How does one get over that first throes of limerence? The first object that literally self explains the all mystical hidden meanings of Love?

The simple answer is one doesn’t!  And thus begins the undoing. 

The little things, the inconsequential, the arcane of tiny items.

It was early 2000s and all through the decade when my brain and self were mutating into an alien life form of itself.  The pull to star dust, the will to self destruct and conserve growing into their own beings together; friends even – all of this co-existed with negotiating a rising career, detached and destructive relationships all around; I was going through people unaware of them – unaware of the self, too

Have never had a chartered map for my direction of travel operating on tenets of intuition and doing the right thing in here and now.  I know where am I going – I just don’t ever know the route. A la Han Solo and his Millennium Falcon.

More so during that decade – decade which was a ringing resounding echo of loss,  of love, of  moments shining brilliant, of nights as long as nightmares, of  unadulterated joy of being kissed and abysmal hurt of being abused – of turning into a baser version of self and hating it.

And then I grew up relentlessly, unwittingly, despite it all. And I fought, fought hard to undo the ongoing ravaging of baser version to grow into a better one; fought hard to keep the faith and naiveté  - it was Fightclub times n.

No. Am just another girl next door who sees dimensions beyond the crowd.  

There is no Roark – there can't be ... Roark isn’t real – A game theory of Prisoner's Dilemma at work!

And there's more - always so much more left unsaid than said


Am not good at putting everything down - what am good at is algorithms and being a living fossil of memories. 



Note to Self: Stupid self deprecating humour almost always bomb. Enjoy the EOY Staycation! 




Copyright©Neerja Yadav

switching contexts

Pic Credit : Insta


 
“I guess that’s what saying good-bye is always like–like jumping off an edge. The worst part is making the choice to do it. Once you’re in the air, there’s nothing you can do but let go.” Lauren Oliver,  Before I Fall 

And just like that ... he left.  The deep honey brown eyes trying their best to get a read on me - and it took all of me to stay sane, stay dry-eyed - a hint of trickle threatening to ruin the veneer. 

I turn and I fled - shut that door. Something garrotes everything in me and I can barely manage to blink.  

Curled inside a love-made blanket with my feet tucked in I can feel my breath catch in my ribs.  I’m always close to tears, this week. 

The time is both luxury and limitation. 
I want all of it, this glorious mess called life and love. 

Do I dare dream?


Copyright©Neerja Yadav

vAmPIrE hEaRt


An empty page, coarse paper sheet, I pick up a graphite pencil. 

From fugue i find myself in this time and space. This zone. This could either be a beginning of creation or chaos. 

Like a dervish am both the whirlpool and getting sucked into another one. An off kilter flight, nose-diving here, near missing the Snow Mountains, there. 

It's a maze of clarity am lost in. 




The morning light filters through the white and blue sheer curtains painting zebra-stripes on the whites and the creams of the wall. I haven’t really slept a calm wink and yet I need these few minutes willing them into an hour at least… uninterrupted to be with myself! 

Pocketing these moments greedily. Contemplation, perception, a hungry conversation with self… a hunger for creation, the hunger for chaos, a hunger... insatiable. 

The house is humming with early morning snugness and sleepy sighs.

I would give anything for a perfectly normal average girl-next-door! And, stop these crazy loops, unintended. Falling off routine and everything else like on a slider… I always hated those sliders even as a kid… no control!

I let myself create the wildness on the paper, the incongruent images and lines, a few scattered sentences…

One day - am trying to get the sessile sustenance click with wilderness of my heart. 

One day - soon


Copyright © Neerja Yadav

le reve

Neither floating,
Nor flowing…
Hibernating…

In this “frozen embryo”
The IS conceived me, out of love…
For happiness…
Sometimes the light flutters
Those butterfly kisses
Tickles my sleep
The IS waves the wand
And I stir
The comfort zone, too precious
The remorse not acceptable
There are still things to be learnt here
For thoughts never sleep,
Nor hibernate
But IS desires differently…
:
:
:
Trying to find solace ….in
the cumulus and the cirrus
Those sea laden cotton wool (how do they do it??)
Those will o wisp masquerades
asking the questions, the right ones (how do I decide?)
sending the right current, telepathic with the IS
the stars make me feel homesick
and desperately look for “my mom”
rocketing the right prayers
slowly I fragment…
the evil and the devil
the good and the angel
some 14 shades of grey
moving from… the Topside to the Flipside
the duchess of hell and the queen of heaven
effortlessly..
tries on different evening wears

And then I come back…
Merge and morph into this…
What the IS willed me to be…
And yet… a long way before the will comes to pass the actuality that was willed!

The Niner of a Niner!

Growing up is ubiquitous. It’s everywhere from pencil marks on the Spiderman height chart to the ways you define and understand things. From the way you carry yourself independently to the way you help out with chores. 

And I understand the allure of keeping you a baby in my mind; every night kissing you good night – am seduced by the thoughts of your infant self, the toddler you – the you on whose feet my flip-flops looked huge. The you who could fit in the bath tub and giggled with the splashes. 

And my secret everyday moments of thrill is watching you after you are asleep - thats' when the baby you unveils. The lash shadow on your cheeks are still the same as they were when you were 2 

Am seduced and yet I marvel at the young person you are becoming sometimes despite of me! Haha! Mummy’s self deprecating pot shots at self. I hope you don’t get these from me - but then you do cultivate the ability to laugh at yourself. Your preoccupation of the moment is identifying parts of your self - the tangibles and the habits - in other family members. "Mummy, do you think I got my naughtiness from RY or Soma?" "Mummy do you think are my feet like yours?" "Oh now I know, why am I such a geek!!" 

You are your own person – a discoverer, a giver, a kind-heart with will of steel. 

And as you rush towards your decade now – I am aware the world is going to be a difficult one. 

The world for which you care so deeply because “mummy, do you think we humans are greedy against mother nature?”  - will not be the same as now – its changing as fast as you are – it’s growing up too in a manner entirely unpredictable of all the AI theories we discuss at bedtime. 

You want to be a historian, an archaeologist, a scientist and a musician. You are extremely sincere and fair as a person and my hero. 

And all I wish for you in these last few hours of your 8thyear – that for the rest of your smiling sunrises and dancing sunsets – you remain the man you are becoming! 

A smart sensitive stubborn supernova of a man. 

And even when you see your light being shadowed by the world or by your own evolution lessons – know this – am always a step behind you  - your biggest fan and your first best friend. 

It’s an honour to be your mother, my heart!  A very very Happy 9th  Birthday!


p.s: incidentally this is my 306th post with 27 in draft and 279 published!!

Copyright©Neerja Yadav



Just. Now


Today for no particular reason has been a complete sunshine day!
More so, after a night of sleep which was like trapeze artist hovering on semi-conscious, a melange of dreams – cute and scary. Every few hours I felt like I was almost awake, and, for a moment upon waking after in the morning, I was sure I had not slept at all. Well, I had. Insomnia has been a friend for a while.  Last 8 weeks or so things have been moving with alarming dynamism on event horizon. Everything collided and fused with everything else, feeling rutted and no-tears in sight, no let out - most of the times, I was exhausted both in body and spirit.

What exactly is the colour of pain? Why do we write? Does narrative help? Can all experiences can be distilled into a few extraordinary moments? Closed, undetected in some handy corner of the heart? And, are some moments in life not so priceless that they are worth those other zillion of wasted moments when we ghost walk our existence? The moments that are timeless…

Like the first kiss that stole your heart or the first wail of your baby or the moment they gave you first paycheck or when you were proposed or the moment you see death… Some moments definitely are timeless.

Why do we write? To collect these timelessness, which the “dailiness” of life at times begins dissolving into haziness.

With bad throat triggered by autumn hay fever - i stayed home, tried to be tucked in - ended up taking a hot shower and well books and this space here.The unhurried silence that hung snugly on the whole place. One of those sublimely autumn days, where the breeze is just pleasantly cool, the sun just graciously warm and the sky the color of rich undisturbed blue with occasional wispy white clouds.
I pick up one of the books from my rising tower of un-read pile and settle down for a slow leisurely read. A perfect treat on a quietly perfect day. The whole place just ringing with that bonhomie silence interspersed with voice of domesticity.
The sleepy warmth of sun, I sink into the delicate folds of my beanbag, face upturned drinking up the sun slowly but hungrily. The air cool and filled with fragrance of fall: of falling leaves and welcoming winter


My only companion my book and the flight of those winged creatures… the ones I have envied for their unassuming freedom, forever. I have not a had day like this, witnessing and revelling in the glory of now.

And just like that I snap out of despondency. And, for sure I haven't lost my capacity for joy. My capacity for diving into these exquisite moments, dripping with love, with the unchallenged certainty!

Copyright © Neerja Yadav