This post, unlike my most posts, has been written in different sittings. A part of me likes that I keep coming back to this post, adding some more to it. A part of me is pretty distressed, am I losing spontaneity?
I am writing in the eerie hours after quite a while and it truly feels like coming back home. The usual preoccupation is comfortably preoccupied and that gives me an opportunity to leave a few nightly words here. Surprisingly, that brings me to my original musings of roots and wings. I have been fairly rooted since a long time, aspiring to grow wings. And, then I thought I grew wings, I wanted to test them. I am presuming the test flight was successful and that I am indeed ready to take a flight, to whoosh past the stars, to whisper to the clouds and sing to the rainbows.
The creative lot, truly are loners deep within. In a sibylline, pretended ‘burden’ of psychosis and dotage - the quest of art, the journey that they take pride in is often solitary. Quite ostensibly they savour it too, fashionably overrated.
A lot many people have agreed to having wings without roots as meaningless and vice versa, for there is sustenance only for such a rooted soul who can fly. But is it truly possible to own both, at the same time? I doubt. I agree, both the forces create the balance. But to breakaway and to fashion absolute brilliance, the roots must be compromised with. Otherwise you have held on and merely grown tall, not flown.
Taking you back to the ponderings of the day when the gusty winds were quite gutsy, so.
I feel I am such a romantic loon. I often colour my vision sepia, just to look at moments passing by. How they would be, as memories. Wondering if I would, with wisdom of a few years added, look back at things the same way I do now. Would all that make me smile or embarrass me at being “the kid”.
This rooftop was literally the brewery of the love(s) - all the sneaking-up-at-night-to-talk-to-someone-o
And just like one of those moments when you wish to talk to someone, someone who would get all of it that you are going through without saying it verbally (esp if it’s me), someone you can’t really decide who could be that – calls up! It’s really nice and handy too when you only about have 3 rupees 19 paise talktime balance. Oh boy! That’s the feeling. My best friend being in town keeps me happy anyway but then telepathic phone call was a leap in the faith in the concept of “best friends”. She had gotten a new number and so we did the old trick again – called up the other best friend and tried to intrigue her if not scare her. We talked of good old times and all the times when we – just like now- talked about old times.
As the s’pposedly life changing moment in my life is arriving, I have become more of a keen observer. I am looking at things around me better in awe and gratitude, and also with a feeling of good riddance at times. After spending 16 years in city, I am moving (something I have longed since about 5 years) away to a far far place. The first thing I do in the morning is to announce my family, the college mummy and this best friend (basically the local phone call rate people) about the countdown no.
To add to all of these good reasons to be happy dappy yappy about, Radio Mirchi is telling me that it is raining in some part of the city. So, thank God, I wasn’t dreaming up the petrichor. It is going to rain here too, soon maybe. Yay.
PS: What is with the windy nights? Nothing lifts my mood like it, nothing. I am so gonna miss you rooftop. I wanna tell you - WORLD and LIFE, lest this wind blows me away with it to some distant land of wonderment, I love you :)
PS2: my hair is messed up beyond repair. Damn you wind.
PS3: la la la la <that is me singing>
PS4: Everybody is welcome to add their suggestions to my list of things-to-carry-when-you-are-about-to-be