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.

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A few things have stayed all through, as pillars – one of them was you – Mr. AK – precisely your work, which were speaking voices in the head - began in 2001 and continued - ‘am I tongue tied fan girl? 

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

You are no Roark – you couldn't be... Roark isn’t real – you are close enough or so i feel... 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. Get Up and Pack for Amsterdam! 



Copyright©Neerja Yadav

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