Language of Heart.

What name do we have for the language of heart?

that no other can decipher but only ourselves,

do we call it love or do we call it a mystery?

do we name it as a certain pining or do we name it with something that words cannot describe alone?

What name do we have for the language of heart?

the one that's truly beautiful,

but embarrassing enough to keep it underneath the show that we grandly put on,

do we name it as a vulnerability or do we call it our safe space?

What name do we have for the language of heart?

the one that's written with our own fingers but has the power to write and rewrite our fates and stories,

do we call it poetry or do we name it as a piece of destruction that we willfully take?

What name do we have for the language of the heart, I often wonder.

An Unsung Song.

I remember the first time I saw you,

I was younger, and so were you,

The lights, like you, were at a proximity which was morosely faraway.

There was music in my head, which kept me oblivious to everything around,

Maybe even to the music that was played in the coffee shop.

Reticence and silence were lying astray in the air between us,

Like an unsung song whose lyrics I knew, but never the tune.

But even before we realized, we build a fort around awkward hushes and masked emotions,

The secret path to this fort, as someone once said, was not giving in to the urges.

We could have given in to it. Maybe we should have,

Instead, we made a deal with our mystical little minds,

To replace our hearts desires with vague reassurances and unsure answers.

Because in a battle between wants and needs, we were neither,

Maybe we were in-between but never enough to create symphonies.

Going back to the day when we first met, I now realize that,

Love was never our cup of tea,

It never was our humble abode.

Distances and Proximity.

She lived out of suitcases while he built his home, carefully.

She measured her life with the number of places her feet took her to, and he did his while reading books in the cozy corner of his room.

She traveled to various parts of different countries in the pursuit of finding a meaningful story, as he moved from one page to the other, breathing into the lives of thousand characters.

The lipstick stains on her coffee cups and the little notes on the takeaway boxes made her life a mantel of memories, but to him, collecting memories meant something more tangible.

She sent him little postcards and lovely polaroids from the towns she visited and he sent her long emails about his days, weeks and sometimes, months.

During their rare phone calls, they ran into the wee hours of the night talking about the desserts that troubled her and the writer that made him go weak in the knees, about the coffee she enjoyed at the end of a forgotten lane and about the drawings and poetry he wrote in the margins of his notebook.

She narrated how sunrise looked poles apart in different parts of the world, and he described how sunsets weren’t the same without her.

Every time she moved from one place to the other, the desire to be with her grew deep in him.

Her feet might have taken her to places she called her own and beaches that she felt like home, but her heart? Her heart stayed with him, no matter where her feet traveled.

Of the Great Unknown and Winding Roads.

Of one of the most important rituals from childhood, I vividly remember my daily visit to a really gigantic coconut tree that was located in a lane behind my colony. For some reason, it was a habit to go check up on the tree every evening when I was back from school. After every visit, I would be so glad. I would imagine the tree was growing with every passing day. I would imagine the tree was expecting me too.

My family moved to a different city and the next Summer when I was in Vizag, I was utterly excited to go see the tree. And I did, only to find out that it was cut down to widen the road. I still remember that moment in my head. Actually, scratch that. I could picture it, and if I made a list of top ten horrible moments of my life, this would definitely top the list. It was so painful that I never went to that place again. I wanted to smash the person who cut the tree. But I was seven, and that wasn’t going to be easy.

For months, I wasn’t able to look at another coconut tree normally. I mean, figure that! In due course, it never mattered though -- something that was so important to me back then seems like such a petty issue now. Of course, a coconut tree might be inconsequential in my life now. I don’t even remember when was the last time I noticed one.

While talking about this to a friend today, I thought about something similar. Or not.

Does present pain turn into something so trivial years down the line?

Take a closer look at what I meant there. There are instances where we lose people. Often there are reasons, often there aren’t any. Separations are always tragic, and we never accept them entirely. The pain is so awful that we lose track of time, and sit in the darkness dolefully hoping the void would go away.

It doesn’t. We make it go away. We fill it. Or we just forget it. It takes time though.

I have never been a great person with losing people. I have always hated it, just like most of you do. It has never been my forte to let go of people hundred per cent. However, if I was able to look beyond the destruction of my favourite tree at the age of seven and still love trees, I could definitely look past a lot of painful things at twenty four.

Doesn't the idea of horrible things turning insignificant seem ever so liberating? Yes, it does. It might be a great unknown for now but when it happens, I would gladly take my long and winding road again.

P.S. It has been a wonderful Saturday!

Win Some, Lose Some.

I have never been a huge fan of losing things.

In my world, winning is, quite obviously, the winner.

It looks like the equation has been changing lately. Not that I am really losing out on things. Or to be more precise, people. But I have been making a lot of revisions to my life, and editing the terrible things quite relentlessly - all to make my 24th birthday lovelier than ever.

Metamorphosis, I reckon.

I have always wondered, how do you really measure winning and losing when it comes to things that are not tangible. How do you measure all of it when it comes to people? The million dollar solution to that dilemma would pretty much sum to nothing.

Zilch. Nada.

Now, here is the thing. Over a period of time, I have developed a habit of holding on to something that has been bruising me. It hasn't just stolen my sleep, it has stolen my peace of mind too.

I mean, come to think of it, I have lost the count of the number of days where insomnia and distress engulfed me.

And for God knows what reason, I held on to it. Maybe I was trying to seek comfort in it. Maybe I was hoping it would turn out to be better in time.

Or maybe I was just scared of making that huge a change in my life. I was controlling my emotions, and probably was choosing the wrong notions in my head over my comfort.

Big. Fat. Mistake.

I've realized, happiness is the eternal solution to that damned dilemma. That is exactly what differentiates winning from losing.

For once, I have learned that controlling things doesn't always have to be my forte. And I let go.

Isn't it quite strange? When you really like something, you succumb to it in ways you wouldn't imagine, and no matter what people say, you put yourself out there. You take that leap of faith, and fall prey to idiotic things and quote lines like "The heart wants what it wants."  Yuck. I know. But maybe, that’s how you learn. You got to make your own mistakes to learn out of them. 

The best part is when you lose some, you win some.

Only to make way for better things in your life.

Conversation Between Brain and Heart

"The Genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in the council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then."
-William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Brain: Heart?

Heart: Brain?

Brain: I do not mean to offend you but do you remember the time you claimed to be more powerful than me? And that the world runs around the ridiculous emotion you produce? I think it is time you accept the truth. I am the most powerful organ, and you function only because I do.

Heart: Oh please, I am such a knockout! People mention me in poetry and grand prose, in melancholy and utter happiness; while I live in grandiosity, you live in boring science textbooks. 

And just for the record, you too function only because I do.

Brain: Look who's talking! If I was so powerless, why would you come to me broken and tattered every time someone tears you apart? Why do you say, If only I followed your advice, each time someone hurts you? Because even you know that you cannot deal your issues alone. 

I tell you what? Just pump blood, alright? That is your job. Do not get distracted.

Heart: I am a multitasker.

Brain: No, you are stupid and illogical.

Heart: Of course, being logical brought you a long way, didn't it? 

Brain: How would it? I get to suffer along with you. Because of your utter foolishness, you get into troubles, and drag me along with you. Have you ever put yourself above anyone else?

Heart: No, but that's what makes me the heart, doesn't it? I am selfless, and even when every fiber of my being hurts, I do what I got to do.

Brain: Do you even listen to yourself when you talk? Complication is your second name.

Heart: Just the way egomaniac is your second name!

Brain: Maybe, but I am the safer one. I am the last resort to everyone, okay? I make geniuses what they are. I pull people out of their miseries, and I take their thoughts on a right path. 

Heart: But I have the power of transforming the geniuses as well.

Brain: No. You push them towards eternal damnation.

Heart: I add beauty to the lives of people. If anything, I push them to seek your help, I push them towards making their lives meaningful. I am hopeful unlike you.  I might makes their lives painful, but even those thoughts come from you.

Just take a look around yourself. People make movies about me, write stories about my presence in their lives. I'll give it you, you are amazing, but we do not exist without each other, and that's possible because I make it happen. 

And I make it happen because I want my name to be written beside yours.

Brain: Oh stop manipulating me emotionally, you evil thing. Fine, let us have it your way. But do not come to me when someone breaks you, I am too exhausted to bandage your wounds. 

Heart: *Giggles*