Now….
(the
sequel to the book soon to be published)
I am at a Retreat Centre
in the holy of holy places. They say that a visit here is like going to a
pilgrim shrine. Scores of people throng here in search of answers, many to escape
questions and yet others to make a living. It matters little why and what
brings a person here, for having come once they cannot escape being one with
the tranquillity, peace. They return again and again.
I have come here for
a quiet time: to gently ease back the taut and fragile strands of emotion that
threaten to snap or dangle helplessly like discarded telephone wires. The
strands have held together the many years of my life, relationships and
emotions, my loves and dissatisfaction, laughter and disappointments and I have
been careful not to allow the tension build above a point, I am careful not to
erase my life in an unprovoked gesture that could obliterate the essence of who
I am.
With years of practise
at self preservation and intuitive understanding I realised that I needed to
withdraw to a benevolent haven that would allow me the luxury to retract back
without damaging the weft and warp or leaving a shapeless slack behind. I have
to carefully spool back different skeins of episodes that have been assembled
to this pattern I call my life, the moments, minutes and hours that measure
these forty five years. If I dawdle at one place and get lost in a memory of
that fragment, get swayed by the flash of the scene, if I hesitate even a
second longer, I am scared that the hesitation will scatter the jigsaw pieces,
the misshapen objects that come together on my storyboard with the glue of
nostalgia. I have to walk backwards at the same tempo as the events itself and
return to that place where there is no grief, torment or anger as if an unsavoury
joke has been played, no sadness for unspoken losses of what might have been
and wish it were.
I have been holding my
breath; I allow the air to rush into my lungs and get dizzy for a moment. A
shiver of pleasure snakes up my spine. It’s good to be alive.
(to be continued)
Unforgettable Literary Pairs
Unforgettable Literary Pairs
Scout & Jem: To kill a
Mocking Bird
No comments:
Post a Comment