We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied to us. ~Francois Rabelais
Strange are the ways of the world. Never once in our lifetimes do we entirely get what we yearn for. As kids we often cry for that elusive candy. We go restless for myriad mysterious and anomalistic things, as we grow up. I can’t tell how it feels like when we age but it must be the same. The curious cycle has to continue somehow. You can’t exactly explain the phenomenon. It is rather quirky and enigmatic. It is about passion. About half-seen dreams. About hope and hopelessness – all in one whiff!
An angel whispered something to me, the other day. I feel a strong tug in the heart, as I reminisce about it. Passion. It lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting. Though unbidden it will stir open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us. Guides us. Rules us all and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love. The clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace, the angel suggests. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without it we'd be truly dead.
I pine for someone, who I reckon is the best dream, one can ever visualize. I love to miss our moments. The feeling. The passion. The togetherness. The glares. The glint in the eye. Like a kid, I play hide and seek with my emotions. Yeah, it is difficult. It is fun. It is beautiful. It is fleeting. While it may appear to be going away, I know it is mine. I’ll touch it like none can! That is because my heart hankers for the someone. And I know, I sound Socratic today!
Strange are the ways of the world. Never once in our lifetimes do we entirely get what we yearn for. As kids we often cry for that elusive candy. We go restless for myriad mysterious and anomalistic things, as we grow up. I can’t tell how it feels like when we age but it must be the same. The curious cycle has to continue somehow. You can’t exactly explain the phenomenon. It is rather quirky and enigmatic. It is about passion. About half-seen dreams. About hope and hopelessness – all in one whiff!
An angel whispered something to me, the other day. I feel a strong tug in the heart, as I reminisce about it. Passion. It lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting. Though unbidden it will stir open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us. Guides us. Rules us all and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love. The clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace, the angel suggests. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without it we'd be truly dead.
I pine for someone, who I reckon is the best dream, one can ever visualize. I love to miss our moments. The feeling. The passion. The togetherness. The glares. The glint in the eye. Like a kid, I play hide and seek with my emotions. Yeah, it is difficult. It is fun. It is beautiful. It is fleeting. While it may appear to be going away, I know it is mine. I’ll touch it like none can! That is because my heart hankers for the someone. And I know, I sound Socratic today!
Samy
6 comments:
Awsome. Beautiful. So sameer-like.
Mohit, 27
There are times when u turn socratic (which is perhaps philosophical) but u shine, as always.
It is a treat to read ur page. Every single time.
S. Shanti, Kudaloor
This is a fantastic, first-class piece of blogging.
Eric, 21, Mass, US
Har kissi ko muqamal jaha nahi milta/kahee zamee...
I hope u have heard the timeless gazal. That compliments the essense of your piece.
Regrds
Joyita, Delhi
and who is the angel, who whispers all these beautiful things to u. we deserve to know. right?
anjali,25
I admire this poetic continuity and almost constant rhythm in your posts. The last para is almost dream-like.
Thank you.
Nicolas, 33, New hampshire
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