Self obsession
Is not very different from
Self sacrifice
To always do what
I like, or something I
Always hate, is
(Always and
In all the damn ways)
Alike.
To think, all want to
Hurt me, or to think
I’ll hurt all
Is just the same.
Both ways I ain’t free,
Trapped by same ‘all’
On November 19, 2019, my sibling was run over by a huge vehicle. He survived a near-death event that morning but lost an arm. He would have bled to death if not for some alert and compassionate strangers who started the free ambulance service, who called the ambulance, who raised alarm when he was bleeding too much and other doctors did not care enough, who soothed him when he was isolated and mortified all by himself in the ICU, who helped him accept his new body and many others who will remain unnamed but always a part of his very existence.
Tonight I found an old set of papers with the writings of the hand he lost. They were words of motivation for difficult times whenever they come. It has been over six months since his arm was torn apart from his existence but he still feels its presence, sharp and hard. But tonight these words were nothing short of words of wisdom from his phantom friend, a friend who is no longer a part of your life but whose presence exists at a much more nuanced level.
I would like to put those words out and hope to be that phantom friend in the life of you, the reader, by bringing these words of motivation to you and hoping that they will find you when you need them the most.
Don’t Quit
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low, and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When you might have won had you stuck it out,
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow,
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out,
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far,
So stick to the fight when you are hardest hit,
It’s when things seem worse,
that you must not quit.
~
In these times of a pandemic, I hope you are keeping yourself and those close to you safe by NOT coming close to them. I hope you are learning new ways to show you care and love those around you. Also, I hope that you don’t quit because as fellow-breathers of the same air, we are faced with one of the biggest challenges ever. As global as it is personal. I hope you are finding strength wherever and however. And I hope a part of it is derived from these words.
It was somewhere between getting dark and already dark at the bus terminal. She was walking towards her own bus with a sense of satisfaction on a day well spent. After saying all her good byes to friends, best friends, close friends, friends of friends, see-you-soon-friends, just-for-hugs-friends and just-acquaintance-friends, she walked silent, grounded steps towards her own bus.
Leaving behind every familiar face, she boarded her bus, put her bag in place and stepped out for a quick pacing up and down the bus before it took off. She had noticed the bus was not a sleeper and she would have to sit through the long journey ahead. But the excitement of an adventure of her own planning was much bigger than imagined discomfort of sitting through it all. In fact she didn’t know it yet but sitting up was going to be so good for her lazy, dreaming ass. So much to lose when lying down belly up and eyelids down.
As she paced up and down, once again in firm and balanced steps, reminiscing the events of the day, a voice called out her name. She turned to face the single biggest fear of her life, a man 6 foot tall and then some more, towering over her with a serene face. He cannot be named because he has not been named by her yet, she who gives 15 different names to every person she loved. (Maybe she didn’t love him after all. Maybe there was never enough time. To name.)
For the sake of this story, we will name him Djinn.
Djinn was a beautiful creature with an atrociously even distribution of melanin throughout his long body. A collection of contrasts, Djinn had two long arms and two long legs but a tiny torso and tinier ears. There was an always-sweaty upper lip which dried up by end of day. He was a man of cold seasons.
She instinctively stepped back a few steps so the distance can cover for their height differences. And also so she could no longer smell his Djinn smell.
He started to talk. Or at least his long arms did. They were flailing from left to right referring to a recent event responsible for him standing before her. Not long before this night, she had confessed her feelings for him.
It had taken all her courage to confess to him. (It usually takes all the courage she owns when speaking to him, nothing else is acceptable in the presence of Djinn. Brutal honesty is demanded. And honesty is not her strongest pursuit, at least not when she is around other humans.)
But that night, as on this night, she was feeling particularly courageous. That night, as on this night, she knew of the impending heartbreak and yet she continued to stand through. She almost knew what his words were saying even though they never ceased to surprise her.
He told her of the long, arduous journey he will be on and was not sure when he will be able to speak to her again like this. Honk! It was time to go. He told her he was not saying he wont ever get to talk to her but…Honk! It was time to go. All he was saying was…Honk! Honk! It was really time to go. I have to go now.
The moment was beautiful and perfect, so much so that it would make her cry. Because she knew she will never be able to recreate this exact feeling for the rest of her life, when she will reminisce that night. She will either be blinded by the passion of finding him again or drowned by the painful truth of losing him forever. But in that moment she was not feeling any of those two feelings.
She knew what it was. Djinn always brought with him a door into a different world. When with him, she too would accompany him into this imaginary world where everything was possible. Everything you wanted was possible. She did not know if it was of the Djinn’s own making or they created it together. She never could ask if he found that world during his travels where everything was possible. Everything. You just had to change the way you looked at things and voila there was always some way to set things in harmony.
In that moment she could feel a strange emotion for him. Intense and honest, almost an unconditional kindness and empathy for him. The separation was there before her eyes but so was the connect. She felt like he was her and she was him. And as long as she had herself she had him. Even writing about it makes me think how impossible this is. But that was the beauty of their world, everything was possible. Even pursuing different dreams on different continents and staying deeply in love.
She knew she would struggle to find this world inside her head all by herself once he was gone. So she wanted to live these moments intensely and never questioned him for not taking out enough time for this talk. She did not even respond. She just stood there looking at him uncomfortable in all his affection (not sure what it was but she tells me it felt like affection) ready to walk away but wanting to know if I was ready too. All in a matter of a few minutes.
She told me she cannot remember if it was a nod or a smile she could manage at the time. But he soon walked away. Not angry.
How do you melt someone frozen? Not just in ice but someone frozen in stone. All kinds of solids are basically liquids aren’t they, a group of molecules who have lost the energy required to keep moving. So they are stuck in one place, caught and clogged.
What melts a mountain? A river sure cuts right through it. Carves a way ahead for itself. But I don’t want to move ahead. There is nowhere to move ahead. This mountain is everywhere. When the time for that comes, I will pretend to do that. I already have done that. But right now I yearn to become one with this mountain, for it to melt and flow with me.
Mountain. Melting. Volcano. Do I have to wait for a volcano to erupt from within this mountain? But that take forever. Well, who is in a hurry? Except, I could be? Then what? I cant wait around for a volcano, which in all possibility could very well be dormant for centuries to come.
I can increase the temperatures of the earth to facilitate that. To increase the heat in general to melt the stone. (Another solution was to shift this particular mountain onto a hotter planet. After all everything melts at the right temperatures. If only we were a race THAT advanced.)
Dammit, now I am sad that this stone I fell in love with will disappear and turn into liquid and then into ash. White powder. That will stick evenly and softly on my palm before being carried away by the wind.
I wonder how beautiful it must be to be ash. What a wonderful existence. Formless, tasteless, faceless. Just powdered unity. Everything turns to ash after all. Every thing burns. So how about I turn into ash too, along with this mountain and all of its stone? How about that huh?
I’ll have to burn? Let go of any form that I exist in and burn away to burn him and be one in the resulting death. So I should burn down the world with love? Out of love? May be not.
But to just think of it. Burning with love…how terrifying..how silencing…how peaceful
The Stoned Storyteller 