Chapter X: The Lemonade I Made

Often he gathers wool when it pours, and so drowns in her thoughts and that overwhelming calmness. Those screams inside stand silenced in the deafening thunder. Why doesn't he let them out and lighten his load instead?

Alone she too braves the downpour tonight and struggles staying composed. But the raindrops don't give her away. They become her tears so nobody knows. They conceal her little secret.

Gut wrenching, isn't it? Doesn't rain imbue us with the blues too? Why this everlasting blemish, its never-ending association with gloom? Shouldn't it be a celebration? What those lovelorn hearts have forgotten was when rain cooled their scorched selves and the romance it induced to remedy their souls.

For me, rain is that fearless run to the backyard as her mother chased her for a wipe. It is the utter neglect his heart's arteries put up with because it would get criminal to not join in for fried delicacies. It is ringing your neighbours' doorbells and then flitting like a fly to the nearest hiding place. It is a bicycle ride on flooded roads and a muddy splash in the puddles. It is a football match in the playground that now has everyone in their balconies engrossed. It is the harbinger of romance in those weary hearts on the verge of collapse. It is like love in its nascent stage. It is what makes those free spirits chart on their cloud number nine. It is the sigh you let out that only coffee beans can evoke. It is this fleeting sense of tranquility that takes you over. It is that song you would never want to end. That engaging euphony! Spellbinding.

But rain is a just metaphor I use to depict how we are gifted at finding what we don't like even in the good things in life. Ponder. Just give it one fresh look. Rain is no stranger to stealing away sadness.

Remember there's good in everything not going your way. You are destiny's child.Think. Well don't think, thinking too much has done no one good. Just surrender to life's spell. Delve in the surreality of it all.

Life's pulling way too much out from you, way too fast. There's work, relationships and responsibilities. Stress is lurking right around the corner. Life's handed you lemons, so lemonade you make.

Don't contain yourself, for it is what you'll have enough time for in your coffin. Crave for latitude, to surmount those fetters and flee. Ah! That flight of inordinate joy, wings slapping those winds of change. Consider the change.

Have your spirit rise above the mundane making love with the magical. Rejoice in nature's colourful kaleidoscope. For the fun inhabits in these infinitesimal things. Lull your inhibitions and worries to sleep. Dive in that sparkling stream of rejuvenation and rediscovery. Get a perspective.

There are no joys like the small ones. Let go of the rain-shade and get drenched. Be a part of it, etch good-times and make them last forever. Make them indelible.

Chapter IX: The Inevitable

The alarm tone kills your REM sleep, you wake up and head-dive into monotony. Everything seems same. Stagnant. It’s a new old-day. But has nothing really changed? Do you really sense no difference? Think harder. Don’t you realize that there are no new mornings for him, or he won’t see the sun rising and flooding the Earth with light again? The sun of his life has set forever. There’s never going to be another time you hear that voice. He’s been snatched. No more of his gifts, and no more blessings.

Death is that untamed lion. Nobody can control it, no whips work. It takes lives away. In a fraction of a second. Life, that we relentlessly work towards making better every passing day, seems so fragile. One blow from death and there’s nothing that you have earned in your lifetime that can save you.

Given the number of Cancer cases in my family, losing another life to it does not make it any easier. It is just as grisly as earlier was. It’s not just the end of an existence, the death knells serve as a reminder of responsibility the next generation has got dumped with, it’s the slaughter of those iridescent visions that have now gone monochrome, an adieu to memories that now stand marred.

Death strips you off all your laurels, of all your prized possessions. These distinctions plague only the living. You may have duped a million but there’s no escaping death, not a mortal clever enough. It sees no good or bad. You may be a prince or a pauper, a scholar or a libertine, an epitome of nobility or an ignoble quack. Nobody escapes it. It’s like a black-hole that swallows light. When your time is up, your time is up. It doesn’t come knocking or seeking approval. It just hits, then devastates. It leaves us lamenting. Such is its rage. Leonine. It leaves us with questions, with tears. Parting peacefully is what we have not been conditioned for, have we?

We read books about death, about people on borrowed time embracing their remaining life. Reading those poignant words we feel enlightened; like we know the meaning of life, like we now guard a secret. Tell that to someone who plays the lead in real life. Tell it to someone who has spent his years upping his game, who has been through the crests and troughs of his folks, walked that extra mile for his children and been somebody’s better-half through thick and thin. Don’t these bonds make it harder? Yes. They pull you back and you want to hold on. You yearn for the unusual to occur. You challenge His prowess.

When death corners us mortals, we get down on our knees with folded hands hoping for a miracle. But miracles work mysteriously, don’t they? What is not arcane about the functioning of nature? It’s one tortuous track and miracles are such marvels that keep us hung up on them till  the very last, till that jaded sliver of hope decides to give in, till those bated breaths finally run out.

Death arrives with a gamut of reasons, reasons to take us away; reasons that cut the umbilical cord off for a rebirth into another world for a new life. All because your time here has elapsed and another place in this cosmos awaits your presence.

So is there life after death? Do you believe in afterlife? I certainly don’t. There’s only one life. One life either to live in fear of that unconquerable force or to make the most out of. Only one life to learn from all follies and only one life to thoroughly relish in. One life is sufficient for the bad karma to reciprocate and all your good virtues to repay. Sooner or later. Perhaps sooner than later. There’s always hope.

Chapter VIII: Song for a Stolen Gem

All my musings, they converge to you.

And your ache, it resonates with mine.

Who would fill the void you left?

For not all scars just heal in time.

Shot to fame, and over the moon

got them stars up in your lap.

your tender years were unaware

the price for fame you would have to tap.

For who would lose their own self

In finding what’s not fine?

You strayed from right, you clung to love

Now damage’s done, why whine?

Had ‘What We Have’ And ‘What We Want’

Been not two but one.

You’d known you had your hands full of

For what you’d always yearned.

Torched inside you carried on

that losing game, head high.

Love unusual got your best

Earned you demons, turned you Blind.

They cornered you, curbed your escape.

They silenced all your cries of help.

When you couldn’t contain more pain

Life freed you of all afflictions instead.

If you are a star I’d stay home waiting

For the night you’d shoot from the sky.

I’d wish for you, I’d wish you back

I’d wish you stay all by my side

Now you fly unfettered, free and high

Soaring like those October birds.

Like lullabies to tormented souls

Who’d now voice your poignant words?