it is difficult to keep remembering....that you exist...you become an eye, an ear, a summation of senses on either side of a hood..
and you forget to feel how you feel...the realisation somehow seeps away from sensation...things happen and it does not matter...they do not and that does not matter either...
i do not know how it happened to me..how my life became a story...just another of so many stories i write...about my life...about how i feel...
it's difficult to know actually!
and it is no surprise that i fail to realise just when i trnsmutate from one charecter in a story...to other in another one..sometime maskes and makeup cling...sometimes i do not need then coz just changing color of my skin is sufficient...
it is meaningles to change from one anonymity to another... sometimes i have to just twist my lips a little...and i become another person...i am my jeanie then....why this seems so meaningless then?
what makes me sad when in the middle of the play i remember that i cannot fly...i cannot dissapear coz im not a jeanie in this story?.....
do i like my characters? do i know them?....or is it a pretence...of knowing it all...understanding the incomprehensible....?
i do not know...they say that ignorance is a bliss...and i do not want to know sometimes...coz with wings i can fly...it makes sense if i ignore the incongruities of my stories...that they never end....
how do i fell then between the charecters?...i do not know coz i am busy weaving new ones then...to fill in my emptiness
did god create us...worthless beings just like this?...to run away from senses...not to realise?...
i do not know coz i am on to a new story...another part of me...another part that will not fit, never, to make the complete me...its corners will not be machined...they will remain...sharp edges..incongruous ...they remind me of myself...when i hurt my fingers on one of them, i know that they are part of me...that my quest is still unfinished...that there is a face besides the mask...i have never seen it, but i know its presence then....when i hurt myslf over me....
posted by shah_of_blah at 6:20 AM
5 Comments:
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2:52 AM
Ankur, it reminds me of Paul Simon. I don't know whether he felt something like you, but the words are very unpredictable lots specially when put down in such a poetic mood, and you can't guess where they are going to hit. Meanings changes with different individuals and sights and may seem to converge at times. Anyway, here are the lines
" Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence."
~ Paul Simon ~
2:54 AM
Ankur, it reminds me of Paul Simon. I don't know whether he felt something like you, but the words are very unpredictable lots specially when put down in such a poetic mood, and you can't guess where they are going to hit. Meanings change with different individuals and sights and even different expressions may seem to converge at times. Anyway, here are the lines
" Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence."
~ Paul Simon ~
2:59 AM
Ankur...I never read it till this day...its beautiful...
5:59 AM
Its a bad idea to read your posts when one has an exam coming up....tell me boy how do you choose your words, they leave me spellbound
6:07 AM
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