Butterflies and Hurricanes

How strange is this time. Days pile up against days, float over the little joys and hurt of everyday life like flower petals in the wind. You find yourself grappling through it, immersed in the bittersweet deliciousness of it, and then suddenly, another year has come and gone.

The weather in Bangalore makes everything seem so woefully wonderful. The skies are overcast, the breeze is chilly, our fluffiest blankets are out, the roads are rain-kissed and the trees are greener. (Of course, there are madening traffic jams, flooded streets and power cuts, but I’m choosing to focus on the good stuff).

I just peeled a pomegranate and now I’m reaping the benefits of all the hard work and the stains on my T-shirt. Sometimes talking about the banalities of life is fun, isn’t it? In other good news, I finally visited the planetarium since its renovation. I felt like a kid again, sitting up and staring at the dome, looking at the millions of stars we don’t actually get to see anymore. And when the show started and I saw the Milky Way and the smallness of us – I just sat there and cried. Felt the goosebumps form all over my arms and legs, felt our seats moving as the screen zoomed in and out of galaxies and constellations. More people need to visit planetariums, because we don’t look up at the sky anymore, and when we do, we don’t see the stars like our forefathers used to. We need to remind ourselves again and again that none of our lives really matter, and why that is a brilliant and a liberating thought. Why that is a gift, a privilege, and not a right. Why we need to salvage all the love and all the humanity we can in our lifetimes, because really, the universe is far too big to care about you or me. And why realizing that is the biggest gift of all.

This weekend I also attended Dot’s concert, after listening to her serenading me on particularly dull work days. She’s an 18-year-old artist called Aditi, and she’s so beautiful – inside and out. Her voice is like milk and honey, and before each song, she had a sweet little story about its origin. I lost my heart to her that night. Her innocence and niceness is what makes her music so good. People really underestimate the power of being kind. Of talking in soft, low tones, of not needing to prove their dominance, of not having the upper hand in every situation, of treating everybody with the same respect and compassion they expect in return. As Margaritas flowed freely and candles flickered in that tiny dark pub, I felt happier than I have in a long, long time. I closed my eyes and locked that moment and promised myself I’ll try to be a better, simpler, more genuine, more forgiving person.

A few days back I was feeling a certain type of feeling that seemed indescribable. So I started writing. And what I produced on paper seemed like a poem. And so I recorded it. Sharing it here with all of you. I hope you like it 🙂

We always seek each other out like two whales calling
From thousands of miles away.
I reach out to you not because you’re different,
But because you know none of us really are that different,
And to you, that’s okay.

We collide like a bolt of lightning and the cloud.
Like the spray of a waterfall and the rock.
Like the mighty mountain and the glacier.

My heart beats and beats with the rhythm of us.
Of the dazzle of colour and madness and wonder.
Dubdub, dubdub, dubdub.

And then,

Like a supernova –
The end.
The glow and the explosion of the fleeting magic that was us.

The wrecking ball to our mansion.
The wildfire to our forest.
The tsunami to our island.

Unlike the others, our story ends in unrequited love.

So tell me, dear friend,
How do you expect me to be whole
As chunks of me are chipped away
Bit by bit
With each ending.

When this world takes away more than it can give?
When the nights are longer than the days could ever be?

And then a voice takes over.
Shh.
It’s alright.
Breathe.
Live.
Shine.
There’ll be more unions,
More explosions,
More magic.

We’re not that different, you and I.
We try to make sense of a world
That has seemed to lose its senses.
We look for love, and beauty, and
Acceptance, and depth and warmth.

So come, let’s bask in the glory of a world
That wasn’t meant for us.
Let’s look at the skies full of stars
That don’t twinkle for us.
Let’s look at clouds and comets,
At snowfall and mountains
At roaring oceans and fireflies

Because what else is life, if not for a series of
Tears and laughter,
Dreams and madness
Stories and potions
Hellos and goodbyes?

Life is.. life is a sunset.
Life is impermanence.
Life is nothingness.
Life is a blink.
Life is the space between darkness and light.
Flimsy and fickle, and always, always lurking in the shadows.