Today, she decided to try on the mauve cotton suit. It complemented her frame beautifully and brought out the depth of her eyes. Innocently, she went about her way when alas, the seams ripped open. Just like the other time, when her black denim jacket unraveling at the shoulders.
Her friend had been facing a similar problem with her clothes. One day it was the yellow chiffon dress that tore down her back while some days later, it was the blue silk skirt that frayed all around the hem. It seemed that the tacks and safety pins held only for sometime until the clothes eventually fell apart, worse than ever.
No matter how many times they tried to repair their garments, change their tailors, use assorted fabrics or try out different styles, they never really held together. It was a frustrating time. It was a bitter time. It was a puzzling time.
Only a close examination made them realize that the material of their clothes had been of poor quality, handled with little care and mended without a thought. Of course, their stitching was not going to hold for long when the material itself was falling to pieces.
Just like the law can only do so much. Unless the mindset changes, no number of death penalties and rulings can make an impact on the horrifying rape and molestation cases taking place in the country. In fact, I’ll go to the extent of saying that law is just an easy way out. It is WRONG as a solution. Fear of death should not be the check-post for a criminal! The law may work for two minutes, but unless we examine and address the fabric of society’s perceptions, I do not really see an end to the number of ‘Nirbhayas’ the nation is producing.
I trace the perimeter of the blossom. The petals are wrapped lovingly together as if conducted to a waltz. The partners have frozen in time, forever entangled in their embrace. The sunlight on the morning dew sparkles as chandeliers of their universal ball.
I follow the trails left by the droplet of ink through the crystal goblet of water. How it floats and sways, leaving behind a pattern I liken to a music note that hasn’t been heard. It cuts through the dense path with a calm assurance of its beauty and lazy in its power.
I grasped for the desert sands flowing down the dune with my bare hand. There is a smooth ripple to their fall, like the mouth of a waterfall breaking and surrendering to gravity. There is a rush to break the unwrinkled carpets of sands – a rebel without a cause, it finds respite at the curved bottom.
I focus on the edge of the damp canvas touched by the tip of the paintbrush. From a singular point, the colour spreads like a blossoming flower springing free from the locks of the bud. Even inanimate, it follows the random uniformity otherwise impossible to replicate.
I blow at faerie dust and watch the particles pirouette in the lonely ray of the afternoon light before landing on the polished wood. The gold and amethyst cloud forms patterns that reflect the midnight sky with starlight twinkling solemnly of promises being made across the world.
￼Even when you break patterns, it leads to an inconsistency so perfect that it becomes a part of the perfection.
The culmination came and went by. The dust has settled and suddenly time is a friend. A flaky friend, perhaps but at least not the antagonist in the present state of life.
I am officially an educated unemployed. It hasn’t really sunk in as I immediately took off on a vacation after my last day at work but now as Wednesday afternoon creeps by, I realize I have nothing on my hands except perhaps trace the shades of my tan and the increased pounds around my waist.
I did not take well to quitting my job. I was obsessed in wrapping up pending tasks and deliverables and would even dream about them. Even during the vacation, I was dreaming about the work scheduled – because the thing is – I know what is the work scheduled for the rest of the year. But then I knew I had to take a break! Last few months have been a miserable time and to keep my sanity I had to quit earlier than I was supposed to. The sense of ownership is taking its time in leaving me but I am getting there.
Unlimited time is a gift I need to utilize because the truth is – time is running out. I have less than 45 days to put my life in cardboard boxes before time makes its next play. Last year, D and I decided to take a major step ahead and now that is materializing. I have spoken to a couple of people on the blog about it – I just hope our decision doesn’t backfire. It’s a risk – but then, the payoffs are worth it!
I am opening the doors of my blog again today. Not that they were locked shut from the outside, but from the inside, it had definitely gathered some dust. I now need to love it with some fresh air and sunshine.
As I am brushing down the curtains and dusting the lounge chairs, I am finally feeling a sense of calm that has been amiss for a long long time. I am done running. I am here for good.
Last few weeks, many people reached out asking if I have quit blogging and my response was a horrified “No!”. And then came the trigger when a dear friend texted me over the weekend, checking up on my blogging hiatus and reminding me that it was Saturday – the time for my beloved SOCS post. That did the trick. I opened my blog after almost two months and headed over to see the prompt. How fitting – “Doors”.
So here I am 🙂
I am better now. I am normal now. I had traveled to Vietnam for a 10-day holiday celebrating with D our first wedding anniversary. I admit, the shadows didn’t leave me entirely, but it was a good change for both of us. And the new year brought along the most amazing development and brought many occasions of merriment – to cheer and celebrate. We opened way too many bottles of champagne and wine over the last few weeks in sheer happiness. I will post about it once I have more details around the same.
I have dealt with the horrible mess that has been going on for the last few months. Took a while and a lot of ugly scenes, but now it is firmly behind me. I am moving forward and I am doing things that I love again. I have re-started reading, baking, and running. Writing is up next. And I will be catching up with my blogger friends right about now and your stories of how 2018 has been going so far. Thank you for your support and understanding.
Belated linking to my first SOCS post of 2018 (and my overall first post of 2018)
Don’t give me your grays…
I crave for scarlet and violet and mauve and navy. My eyes are roving for deep splashes and resolute textures. It’s a call for an explosion of the light shattering upon the dark, to understand the colors all over again.
Don’t give me your doubts…
I want emotions – raw and expelling with intensity. I want to love fiercely and unconditionally, burn a green fire of jealousy, sink into purified hatred, burst like a bomb with euphoria. To covet the lucidity as clear as the glow of a blazing candle!
Don’t give me your prejudices…
I desire absolute persistence and coherence of conceptions. To strike the bull eye’s because there is no other possibility! And smash the plank into clean halves with a singular stroke because there is no room for the waste of idiosyncrasies.
Don’t give me your incompleteness…
I want you … one and whole. I want you selfishly without any compromise. Comprehensively to the last speck of your heart and soul. Down to the synchronized pulse of our thoughts and desires.
Unqualified. Undiluted. Untainted.