Haiku

This is not a Haiku. I just named it that to drag you here. If you already know what a Haiku is i.e., or just Google it. Take a break from your respective missions, everybody.

Because I am on none. It's disheartening to see my time whiled away as I see everyone around me haranguing about how else I should take things. Coating layer on layer of paint on their faces. Coaxing themselves to thinner waists. Comparing bust sizes. Buying things en-route to their materialistic paralysis. I see nothing except a race. 

In the beginning, before a lot of beginnings, I had believed that the ultimate idea behind running this race was to be able to get out of it someday, to become capable enough to call it sham. But that isn't true, is it?

Once you run, you have gotta run. Once you fall, you fall.

There is always a list of things to be done with. Wrinkles to be tightened, belly fat to be lost, money to be saved, money to be spent, places to fly to, pictures to be flaunted, things to be bought and stacked, and stacked, until they suffocate you with regret of ever having been that incorrigibly desperate.

They sell magazines, don't they, which apparently tell you that there is a shortcut to get flat abs and have great sex. And you buy them, only to discover that it's after all not a shortcut at all. Then there is the harangue. Somebody just pops up from behind the white clouds on the blue skies and tells you, that see, s/he had told you there was no shortcut. And that you have to burn your ass. And you should turn your sleep cycle topsy turvy to actually get there. So back in the race you go.

There seems to be no way around here. To take things at my own pace. All I sometimes want to do is, watch a solo crow fly revolving about an unknown axis in the blackish white monsoon skies, full of rain and never landing. Being in that state of perennial fight. Apart from that, I merely want to be. And write things that are abandoned unread.



10 comments:

Anonymous said...

Allow me the occasional torrential downpour.
Have been reading your blog for some time. Watched the fanfare. Watched you enjoy the fanfare. Admit it, you do not want to write things that are abandoned unread. You are quite the attention.. erm.. seeker.

About the other stuff. Don't trash it till you try it. It is a race, true, but only with yourself. Unless you are 18 and you are traveling to flaunt. Otherwise flaunting is the side thing that you do, the focus is always the experience. Honestly, people travel for that experience, the heady feeling. You are keeping fit for the awesome feeling it gives you. You are working your butt off for those abs because of the immense confidence it brings when you wear that "super slimfit" formal suit and walk into that meeting.
You are right, you can call it a sham AFTER you have run the race. If you continue running it, then well, it is not a sham. If you are not running the race, if you are no where close to having abs, you have aged in a bad way, not saved money, not flown to places, not flaunted the pictures, not bought things to be stacked, you do not really know if they really do suffocate you with the "regret of ever having been that incorrigibly desperate". You are an outside commentator mulling on the negative possibilities of "this is probably how it is". Or maybe it is just a case of sour grapes. Sorry, I do not mean to be mean. I am not there with you. I am just the outside commentator here, trying to understand your psyche and say "this is probably how it is". But I admit I am not really a big fan of these outside commentators who want to trash what they have never experienced. Or maybe you have experienced it?

You can of course take things at your own pace. But there are two kinds of people who "take their own pace". The ones who cannot run the race, and the ones who can (and have) but would rather not run the race. Interestingly both categories claim to be in the latter category. The point is to be honest to yourself. The race is perennial but it is with yourself, the thirst is never really quenched but it is not a thing that kills you. You can watch that solo bird from below. Or you can BE that bird soaring high. The choice, my friend is always yours!

Anonymous said...

By the way, I am that solo bird flying high in the sky that you so badly want to watch

wildflower said...

Fly high. Go get it tiger!

I Romanticize said...

Of course we read, and we care :-)

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Don't listen to Anonymous figures. They're right, and it fits them good. You do what you do, and yes that's right too.
Haters keep hating, peepers keep peeping, and talkers keep talking, the careless stride of the elephant doesn't acknowledge barking dogs on street. I see that is quite a rude comparison to make for people, but okay.

:D
Blasphemous Aesthete

wildflower said...

@ Anshul, thanks! :D
@ Rajaa, appreciate it :)

WomanInLove said...

I liked the post but I also liked what anonymous wrote(though I don't think it is in a good taste to put someone down for thinking in a certain way, cos we are at times tired of running). I guess most of us are in between always. Trying to run with it and then realising the futility of it all. There are no clear cut rules there

wildflower said...

Ambiguity is the only permanence.. I am in between too, swinging from one end to the other. I respect what anonymous has to say, he shall have his space. After all, we are all justified in our respective plights. But it's the contempt in the tone and the sarcasm, that almost puts me off.

Surya Prakash V said...

Anonymous,

A race implies the rest; Race with self is a sham.

If you are busy walking; like you claim, you wouldn't say the rest, a sham.

Wi,

You can be sold to what is told to you as accepted norm of beauty, of success. Or you could just be and live your course; and perfect your chosen dreams.

Life is perfect yet changing. Any which way you choose it. A movement always spans a distance; you just have to align your axis first.

Surya Prakash V said...

Wishes ended in torrential rains,
Self marinated in water,
Soul drenched to the song,
What began was a recognition,
Of how this body feels,
Through its inches,
Unashamed, Unafraid,
Sprung into the world,
Like the tender leaf,
Flowering into this stem ..

How do I care what colors you see,
What shades you cast on me,
What if, We sprint along,
Or Fallen kiss the ground,
I just watch you,
And tell you,
Its love to be touched,
And life to be lived,
As good as any,
In your watchful company ...