A Midnight Conversation

With no reason, a spontaneous conversation.

 Me: When the mind gets tired of repetitive things, it tends to give up by giving into frustrations. I don’t know if this is right. Holding on to it is killing.

You: Giving into frustration. Didn’t get that.

Me: What happens when things don’t go right? Or don’t work the way you want it? You fight back, stay strong, right? When you stop fighting or give up on things, that is giving into frustration.

You: But sometimes isn’t it wiser to step back and give up fighting for a lost cause?

Me: But the mind is so stubborn. I don’t know what makes it not want to believe that it’s a lost cause. The thing called hope, a stubborn mind relies on it, not a normal one. Observe :)

You: If the mind has given up too? Then what? How much can you delude yourself, under the name of “hope”?

Me: That’s what. There are two minds. 1. The stubborn one. 2. The given up, tired one. The second one says, “You are deluded. Get over it already!” Somehow strong one appeals to me and the circle of frustration continues.

You: Yea well the third should exist, for telling the other two to get real and stop dwelling on things that have negligible impact on the bigger picture that is your life. :)

Me:  The third mind is created! Got a solution now. :) This again sounds subtly like giving up. Asking the first mind to shut up. Speaks a lot. :D It’s asking me, “Giving up on what you wanted. Isn’t this what made a fragment of your life?” Damn yaar, it never gives up!

You: Unnecessary, inconclusive backtalk is all the first mind can do. And the second mind is a weakling, defeated creature. Don’t like either. Loving the third one: smart, practical and highly sarcastic! Fragment will always be a fragment, however big. But will you throw away your whole life for it? I’m thinking along these terms.

Me:  3. The Cynic. Gives temporary relief, yea. Somehow first always comes back. I used to think, small fragments are as important as big chunks. They do add up to a picture. Just like mom is not completely dressed without her bindi.

You: The first one has to come back after a while, yea. But by then, it will have more mature things to hope for. The cynic teaches a lesson and experience to the hope, to emerge stronger. But would she give up dressing just because she cannot find the right bindi? For then, what would be more crucial?

Me: I’m loving the Cynic. He said, “Look at what you just said about the “li’l fragments”. Really, is everything that important to you?” I replied, “Only the ones that mean a lot to me.” Retorts back, “Oh really?” Yes, that is what I meant by this previous message. I love that Cynic. :) Somehow makes everything light. And everything seems rational. :)

You: The Cynic always questions, how many fragments are you gonna have in your life? Life is continuity. Just like a movie. All the scenes shot are not present in the final cut. You edit the unnecessary part to include only the important fragments, to give it an continuous flow.

Me:  Exactly! This is what he meant by “Oh really?” The cynic never explains re. He has his cynicism, one line, says it all. Shuts others mouth off. :D

You: The mind can be divided into a thousand parts to rationalize with itself. But what about the heart? How can you split that from everything to make sense?

Me: There is no heart here. It’s too emotional. It screws everything. And it cannot think. This is the cynic speaking. Man, I love him! Cleared my head.

You: Yes. But can the cynic take over the heart? Who is bigger?

Me: It has at present. It has tagged heart as dumb. “It cannot think rationally or logically!” Shut up you! But there is nothing as generous as heart.

You: Heart is bigger. It keeps all things close. The cynic eventually becomes the philosopher, the wise one. Only then it can keep up with the hope in the heart.

Me: Cynic overtaking: “It’s bigger yes. It complicates. It hesitates. It’s dumb. Very emotional. It frustrates you. Mute it for a while. You’ll feel better. Can decide better and faster. Listen to the wise one.”

See it was my heart talking about small fragments; cynic talked me out of it. You cannot fall for it after you dismissed it. It’s like confused, two minds. Listen to one.

You: Wow! That’s quite a convo to have at 12 30 in the night! :D

Me: I know. :D Interesting one too. :) Mind is shutting down now. Zhop aata! Udya continue karu.

You: Chalel. Good convo though. To be continued..

Good night.

--..

I was Wandering

Wrote this in a competition in BMSCE fest "Utsav", April 2 2010. In collaboration with Vibha. Didn't win. :(

(Introduction: War every where. We fight, we kill. In the end what do we get? Is that piece of land worth loosing lives? When there can be harmony and peace. This is about a girl, who lost her home in a war. In search of her identity she is wandering. In search of answers she is wandering. The answer eludes her..)

V: I was wandering, on the crossroads I stand

Wondering to myself which is my land

Who was the one’s I can call on my own…

In whose arms I was borne?

V: I see no difference between there and here

The eyes all over have the same fear

Why is there pain, why the tears?

Why are all looking for their dears?

V: Little was I when I was taken,

I know for sure I was never forsaken,

My mother’s eyes had all the options read,

I was either going or left there dead

A: Mother’s love, so intense and divine

The option was known, clear like a chime

Clutching to her heart, she took me and fled

Life was my gift, before she left

A: What’s in a name, what’s in a color?

What do we fight for, what do we achieve?

I lost my life, lost my home

I’m a wanderer, in search of my home

A: Questions I ask, answers unknown

Wanting to belong, feel a sense of home

Walking around, in search of clue

All I see is broken and gloom

V: Not knowing where to go

Unsure of my roots am to sow

I walk alone clutching on my mother’s ring

I’ve been, still I am...

I am wandering…

---..

You and Me

This poem I wrote in collaboration with Vibha.

V: Hold on my dear, not so fast
You'll forever be my part not my past.
Sit down for a minute and listen to me
Look into my eyes, tell me what do you see

A:My heart sings for you, why can't you hear?
I've said I love you, but you don't care.
You promised to walk along, now you walk away
I tried to hold on, but you shrugged me away.
Was this all that was to be of you and me?

V:Do you see lies, you thought there were?
Do I look like a murderer with a snare?
My face is sinister, a witch you said.
Even to the gallows you had me led.

A:My heart was yours, I had already said.
I'm all yours, you had already said.
Still you dragged me all the way
I was a witch, no more your angel you said
I cried and called out your name, but all in vain.
You were far gone, and I was slain.