The Clownish Life

Once in marketplace on a sultry May Saturday afternoon ‘Clown’ happened to meet Life in a book shop. Clown was searching for some fiction to tickle her creative mind and Life stood quietly in a corner in one of the aisles. At first Clown did not recognize her being their first close encounter. She looked like any middle aged woman but something about her bewitched the Clown completely. What it was Clown could not contemplate? With long silky tresses, big black eyes, glowing skin, childlike smile and an enigmatic aura about her she captivated Clown’s attention like a Bollywood heroine just out from a Yash Raj romantic flick. Clown soon noticed that it was not just Clown who was fascinated by her but there were few other ‘Gentlemen’ who looked enamoured. While Clown was still wondering whether to go to her and start a conversation one of the gentle men wasted no time and began flirting with her. She stood there motionless as if slyly smiling inside her bosom, as if mocking at him and asking him to stop fooling her. There was absolutely no emotion from her side and she moved ahead to the next aisle as if avoiding this gentle man. Clown was a mute witness to this entire event.

Life had barely managed to reach the next aisle another gentle man followed her. He seemed to be a known figure of the town and inquired as to who she was. Since this gentle man was high and mighty Life was a little scared. Out of reverence for his position in society she introduced herself in a feeble shaky voice and left in a jiffy. Moving on to the next aisle this Semi-God followed her and soon they both started conversing. Life realized she had a lot to learn from him. Thoughts, intellect, humour, creativity, likes, pains, stress, spirituality and yes sometimes love; they both exchanged what each felt for the other. It looked like the most perfect of bonding in such a small interval of time. To Clown they looked absolutely weird. Best friends forever that is how they described their relation. Clown left after sometime although she was quite enjoying their talks since Clown had a show in the evening.

Next week Clown again visited the book store this time for something on mythology. Clown could not understand her obsession with mythology, spirituality and philosophy since childhood. The unknown world beckoned to her more than the known. For some unknown reasons Clown felt more comfortable in the warm friendly arms of strangers than the cold strange hugs of friends. As Clown wobbled into the welcoming aisles she was pleasantly surprised to see Life standing right there in front of her. This time Life didn't look that attractive. There was sullenness about her. Her long tresses looked less silky, the big black eyes were a little less black, the glow of the skin had diminished, the smile had lost child-like innocence but she still held on to her enigmatic aura. What surprised Clown was that this time Life was staring straight into her. Clown noticed Life ambling towards her and in a second she was gazing at Clown with an intensity that shook Clown’s soul. There were questions she had for Clown.

Why was Life asking Clown questions? Who was she to ask her anything? What did Clown owe to her? Life gave her nothing. They didn't even know each other. But Life was adamant. She wanted answers. Clown asked Life to accompany her to the Circus Arena for a cup of coffee so that Clown could get a chance to at least know who she was. With a little hesitation Life agreed. In the next fifteen minutes they were sipping Irish coffee. Ah, the aroma of the place mesmerized Clown. The Amphitheater with its events added more excitement to the already hot Cup of Coffee. But Life was too persistent. Without wasting any time she introduced herself and described the various orgies of her lifespan. She had had quite eventful experiences. She had innumerable laughter but there were countless tears. She had moments of peace but stress had been the constant demon. Love filled the joyous hues but hatred and neglect made many wounds. Cheaters there were many and she still looked for loyalty and togetherness. Definitions changed with time so did people. Strangers became friends and friends turned strangers in the wink of an eye. Why yes why Life asked the Clown. But Clown stood confounded and bewildered.  Why was Life asking Clown all these questions? Where was Clown’s stake in all this? What was Clown’s responsibility? How was Clown answerable to Life? Before Clown could speak anything to Life she probably understood Clown’s dilemma. Life kept looking deeply into Clown’s eyes as if challenging Clown to look back at her. For once Clown too gathered courage and looked straight into hers. What Clown saw in her eyes took the very breath out of her. Clown felt being thrown down from a cliff. Like somebody hit Clown hard in the safest vaults of her heart, like the waves of the sea slithered underneath Clown’s feet taking away the sand and leaving Clown fumbling for grip. Clown saw her own reflection. The questions were her own. The persistent stubbornness for answers was her own. The echoing laughs her own, the painful tears her own, friendly strangers her own and strange friends too were her own. Life was asking for answers and Clown had none… Clown stood numb gazing at the void that lay in front of the Circus Arena hoping one day Life shall have her own answers….

Still

Birds vindicate your chuckle, Skies whimper with you,

Trees swing to your song, Flowers blossom your narration,

Streams mime your feelings; Winds invoke your thoughts,

Destiny seduces your wants; Hope beguiles your pain,

Heart is restless still; still Semblance is to be descried,

Motive is to be reckoned still; still desolate Soul rambles. 

She

Where the greatest Warrior lost,

Where the boundless Sun dimmed out,

Where the facile intelligentsia fumbled,

Where the indomitable Gods turned just idols,

There you stood all strong and mighty

Astounding the world with your doggedness

Those twinkle in your eyes,

That smile on your face,

And that spark in your soul!

Can You?

Can you hear what the deepest silence echoes?

Can you bear what the meekest tear conveys?

Can you speak what the faint heart drips?

Can you see what the pale eye grips?

Can you resonate what the wound cries?

Can you render what the smile hides?

Can you read what the quivering lip gushes?

Can you feel what the servile spirit touches?

Dyad

Rein -in said the intellect, Go-on muttered the heart,   

Keep it closeted advised sanity, Let it blossom chirped spring,

Strap-in shouted the milieu, Pour-it-out gesticulated the cloud,

Bridle it informed the day, Fructify resonated the night,

Harness it whispered fear, Manifest it dared faith,

Feign it counseled reality, Embrace it notified Life.

The Saint with a past or The Sinner with a future?

Many a time we find ourselves in words written. We can connect to what we read and place ourselves somewhere in between the story line, as probably one of its so many intricate characters. We feel like we breathe, eat, laugh, cry, make friends, hate and love just like one of them. It’s like the character is a mirror image of us. We can immediately relate to her/him. At times we find ourselves better in words not written. We instantly relate to the unwritten feelings, characters, incidents and events not explicitly expressed by the writer. The explicit becomes a mystery more to the self. The more you see a character in the book or some shade of that character, the more you begin to question. The answers to these questions are not easily available to us. Most importantly the question itself is not very clear to us. We fail to understand what we are actually searching for. The implicit then gives solace to the spirit. The outward causes more confusion, the hidden is where the key to all lies.

When we know little, doubts are few. We are quite convinced that whatever we know is correct and all true. But the real trouble starts brewing when we begin to know more and more. When our limited information starts spreading its wings to soar to greater heights of knowledge, doubts overshadow our thoughts. The various perspectives, opinions, advise all begin to blur the facts when instead they should be coming to our succor. We feel we were much happy and content when we listened only to ourselves. The moment we decide to lend our ears to others, clouds of doubt begin to brood dark. Indecisiveness crawls in and makes us wonder why?

We do get “Signs” from Super Natural that concludes to the affirmative, but “Signals” from naturals bring contradictions and haziness. On one side are the not-so- visible forces telling us that “This is it” but on the other side the all-visible forces around us telling us that “There is much more to it”. How does one decide, who does one trust? Where does one turn to? Should one listen to the opinions surrounding us all loud and clear or the low, feeble voice in the heart?

Which one is a better bet? The Saint who has a past or a self proclaimed Sinner looking for future?

Salutation

Musings stir the soul with empyrean melody

Every time the Winds whistle in the woods,

Delectable ripples immerse the apostate heart

Every time the Moon gleams in the vaulted sky,

Bereaved sensations tumult the forsaken soul

Every time the Ship relinquishes the safe harbor,

Sanguine Hope dawns the unassailable spirit

Every time Divine is envisaged in the temple.