sublime confabulation

Ensconced in the parked car on the side walk, I do the rabbit hole of mind surfing again. This private space created bang in the middle of flow and ebb of traffic. I promptly lock the doors.

The flow of humanity, some weather beaten, some sapling fresh faces. Some completely dilapidated bicycles and some spotless shiny sedans… I gradually soak up the emotions of everyday. The hues and the harmonies of the dying day and enveloping darkness interplay with shop lights, choir up with street lights, and weave arias with the vehicle lights. All of these have story to tell their own version of all the light hearted and heavy headed Acts of life! Bits and pieces of life - form a mélange. A vibrant hum of existence!
This watching and observing has been a second nature, guess comes from a solitary childhood. I almost find a solace in quite observation of our kinds. Large dispassionate, professional groups I can manage. One on One, I think… communication becomes this huge looming over my head thing. I think my innate shyness (!!!) comes to the fore, every time. I suck at “hellos” and then at goodbyes too!

I’ve wanted to write about so many things, beautiful thoughts, scary ones too… but instead I’ve been crawling into mind. Seeking sabbaticals or is hibernation more like it! I’ve tried to wrap my mind around what I want to express and yet I keep falling short of whatever it is I really want to say.

I’ve observed myself enough over the past few years to know that about when I am feeling absolutely empty inside, I begin taking that extra care on how I look. The world needn’t see the chasm. But then things begin to crack inside… the look, the need and mind to take care of the body goes out to the winds. The emptiness seems ever widening.

I think the emptiness has something to do with wanting to voice something I can’t quite name, wanting to live something I can’t quite get to, wanting to get something out of me that I can’t seem to give form. It also has to do with knowing that I’m not living out of my fullness, that there is so much left un-lived and undone.

The gloom all on its way to the sure doom for past few days, the living teetering on the edge of nervous breakdown. I slowly and systematically, pick myself up and away from that cliff and with unsure steps-on-the-gravel move towards the table land.

I wonder if this oft repeated standing on the edge is a necessary lesson I have set myself up for? Or is it really that I am a horrid-pessimist-in-the-garb-of-ardent-optimist? Am I missing out on life? Did i miss out completely? Maybe a bit, perhaps a lot

Copyright © Neerja Yadav