There’s still a part of me that wants to go back to where I belong………

There’s still a part of me that wants to go back to where I belong and I belong to my land where I grew up. There are random early morning or late evening thoughts where I am walking on the streets , eating ice cream with my parents, having silly brawls with my brother, dancing in the rain on our songs , going for the cultural theatres , having multiple foodgasms, being around people who I can associate with more closely.

Last evening while walking on the cultural street next to my home. I saw a family sitting together in midnight and enjoying ice creams, a father playing with his little son. And it made me think how much we want and love the “ordinary” when we don’t really have immediate access to. But when we’ve it, we’re too busy thinking about the moments yet ahead of us.We beat ourselves around for the lover we lost, for friends we had a quarrel with, for the job we loved and were laid off , for the marriage day, for brighter days free from corona.

Little do we remember that what’s happening right now is truly magical and find the beauty in it and force ourselves out of different time zones we live in and stick to ” here and now”.

An Empty Cup from Empty Barrels

                                       A few years ago, I got into a debate lame enough on facebook. I won’t enter into what we basically conflicted about. But, pretty enough the woman who I argued with fed me a beautiful metaphor of an empty cup. I’m still trying to dig into my facebook messenger to look for her exact words that acted as a muse on picking this blog name which I cleverly changed into “Empty barrels”. Looking back at the time, I was 21 when I decided to create my own blog, signed up on wordpress. I’m not sure if I started bravely right over to put my thinking into a blog. I’d say there’s another girl who mused me into writing, which is after when I had started to read her blog. Her words would just flow right, the finely crafted poetry and most of all, her way of life, of course as I’d view and receive it. Yes, I’d stalk her on facebook and instagram. Totally sucking my long gone habit! It just looked perfect to me the places she would travel, or the way she’d dress up to how she got hitched to a singer and musician! Isn’t it wonderful to marry a musician, especially when you’d like to start your actual day with some music and your mood can perfectly dance to the rhythm of it? Quite frankly, I’d totally fancy wedding to a guy who’d play some acoustics to me. 

Coming back to the story of “empty cup” changing into “empty barrels” it turns out that her written message is lost somewhere under verification threats of the fb user.However, the essence is still intact. I can literally take an empty cup and create it into a flower jar, or fill it with the extra cents .  A cup by all means, for me makes a perfect room for freshly brewed coffee. 

Isn’t life mostly like it?

Self or The other

The artful rhythm

or the messed up commotion,

the loathing of self

or the kindness for others,

the mysteries that are found

or the knowledge that is lost.

The kindled emotions

or the drowsiness of the present,

The pumped up  confidence

or the consciousness of failure,

The artifice for others

or the truthfulness to the self.

In the baffled battle between

the reality and the imagination,

the wisdom of identity

or the crisis of self,

the matter of truths

or the falsehood of belongingness.

The nature that gives

or the humans who receive,

the cyclonic outrage

or the waves that soothes,

The impartial abundance of being

or in the dearth of living.

In the paradoxical

dichotomy of the choice,

some meaning that is gained

or the vanity that is lost,

we discover a part of us

and gained some perception of us.

“I resemble everyone,but myself”

I remember pouring my heart to one of my teachers in graduation days of going through identity crisis. While she after listening to me patiently compelled me to read more about “identity crisis”.

After giving an account of the serious issues going on in head to my dearest friend, she lightly waived it off saying “these are merely mood swings”. ” Sleep until you feel better”.( similar to what Einstein did perhaps)

While telling mother about the flooding of thoughts and questions penetrating each brain nerve. She almost subsided my thought saying ” these are emotional outbursts”. “Make books your best friends”.

Of all the repeated questioning and analogy and failed attempts of clearing my head. I actually got down dissolving myself into the wonder of words until my conscience got arrested again on the beautiful delineation of a poet in a verse “I RESEMBLE EVERYONE BUT MYSELF”.

And true that is, at last I’m able to confer if not, reach to inferences( similar to final “solutions”), that a part of my “wilderness” still remains untainted and touched. And the struggle still remains to unlearn and repossess my identity.

On a lighter note, I have still got time for discovering new perspectives. After all, not all messed up thoughts go waste!