शून्यता

                         

                                  

I hate this feeling of Emptiness. I hate it because . . . It’s the only time I have to deal with myself. The conversations I have within myself are so stretched and dreaded that it comes to a point where I start questioning every relationship, I ever had . . .  Emptiness does this trick on you and its really a bad one. . . It stops you from blinking fast. From a Rocket to a fucking snail. You either lie down or sit on a chair or may be, if you are gutsy enough to go the terrace and stare at the blues, you’ll always find yourself at the spot where you are waving goodbyes with a hope of them coming back.

Memories are pretty overrated if you ask me. They have been conditioned to only one thing and that is to knock you down and make you bleed until you ask “What would kill me?” and with an upper cut as an answer it will always whisper “ME”.

These are the days where you’ll start looking for that comfort pillow of yours. . . muddy and oily but still it’s yours to cry. Chai aur Sutta isn’t poisonous until you add a little bit of Gulzar to it. With each sip of comfort and with each drag of rebellious gesture you take, Gulzar with his Katana would slice you with sobbing lines like

 

                                       एक अकेली छतरी मैं जब आधे आधे भीग रहे थे

                                       आधे सूखे आधे गीले, सुखा तो मैं ले आयी थी

                                        गीला मन शायद बिस्तर के पास पड़ा हो

                                         वो भिजवा दो, मेरा वो सामान लौटा दो

 

 The “सामान” is often hollow but still heavy. The memories that keep on circulating within it often makes my head spin with anguish. Why is it that we always love to a point where it only hurts? The big churn of anxiety underneath acts as a prop on a stage where it wants me to keep performing the same act called “Everything Happens for a Reason”. Till date, I have only seen everything that has happened but not the reasons behind it.

 

Whatever I am writing right now might be stupid tomorrow because I would be in a different space but it will always be relevant again when someone would just go far away. We have let so many people inside us for a very long time. They keep molding you until you become a mirror, where they’d be the ONLY reflection. Would you think of breaking that mirror? NO! Would you sell that mirror? NO! The rules are never yours; they never will be. The only thing you could do is Hope of seeing yourself in that same mirror one day.

 

Emptiness. It makes you think about anything and everything all at once. The restlessness will make you Pee a lot, constantly wash your face, the life will be sucked out of your eyes, your face would look like a flower that hoped for the Sun to never go down but it eventually did.

 

 

This road would certainly end someday when someone else would walk into your life. The melancholy clouds would disappear. You’ll reroute yourself to Gulzar, where he would slap your soul with;

काश ऐसा हो, तेरे कदमों से चुन के मंज़िल चले
और कहीं, दूर कहीं
तुम गर साथ हो, मंज़िलों की, कमी तो नहीं

 

 

But, after a few years again, you’ll come back to this post because you said a Goodbye, yet again.