Maps and Bridges
The mountains recede into the folds of memory, the snow disappears
beyond nameless roads forking and the world flattens out into ceaseless
ordinariness- acres and acres of plains sans mystery or beauty or movement, and
we are moving away, encased in this marvel of modern technology, this miracle
of glass and metal and comfort rushing on towards an inevitable end. We drift
away from ourselves. Yet somewhere still in the world the ghost of a forgotten
ocean raises its soul upward as buried past overreaches towards heaven. And one
day, that churning unseen ghost life will topple the earth.
Happy moments fall flickering
lightly like wondrous soap bubbles, sparkling, weightless, innocent. But then
the heavy air of life touches them- with all its needs for data and details and
precision, the lightest touch from the expanses of the flat lands, and the
brief refracting looking glass is gone, leaving you with chores, lists and
deadlines. But then you pick up the straw-pipes again, and that little bowl of
soap water, and blow, hoping that the tentative breath of a wish doesn’t
scatter the rainbow again. And again. And again.
Somebody asked- if you knew that death was painless, would you choose
life? Give one reason. I have asked myself that ‘why’ many many times. Why do
we go through it all- the weariness, the boredom, the suffocation? People-
well-wishers, friends, acquaintances tell me how I ought to be one way or the
other, because that’s how things are done, that’s how one must be- and their words,
like tendrils grow over my heart, gnawing at my veins and arteries like cold
metal till I can no longer breathe, and I want to shout-
NO, NO, I WANT MORE OUT OF LIFE!
And I want to shout-
WHY? WHY? WHY MUST I CHOOSE JUST ONE ROAD? WHY CAN’T I HAVE THE WORLD?
I have nothing against destinations,
honestly, but don’t make me choose one for the sake of the road. I walk where I
want to go. I find my signs and make my own maps. And that is my reason for
choosing life: Hope.
Perhaps hope is our collective reason to keep hanging on to this
little bridge spanning from a past that we cannot return to, to a future we
haven’t seen. For we are all on a one-way ticket on this train with no return,
and that wondrous frame of snow and green and blue that you missed looking at
properly as it rushed past your window will not return again, but we keep
looking anyway for the chance of beauty one more time. And all we can hope is
that when darkness falls there is someone to light the lamps on this bridge and
guide our way, so that what lurks beneath do not capture our souls in the
churning waters.
One a side note, something that bothers me about this blog is my
awareness of its enormous solipsism, perhaps selfishness. I don’t know. I
haven’t figured out what to say. I know that the world burns and the children
die and the ice melts. Perhaps one day, I will know my words. But for now, this
little bubble of selfishness keeps me sane. I am drawing my maps.
A Few Incoherent Thoughts
on the Poetry I Didn't Write.
My page turns into moss-covered paths for my pen to slip till I no
longer know the way and I am falling into the old familiar bubble of rarified
oxygen like the enchanted breath of a mountain forest in summer.
And I have tried not to stare into the echoing eyes of mournful nymphs
by the side of nameless streams, or listen to falling of dewdrop from a
motionless leaf, or smell the sharp heady perfume of ancient wood and soil.
I wish I could speak of the lighted world, to probe into its wounded
soul and offer solace, or wisdom or anger.
But here beneath the green-gold shadows and the beating of a timeless
heart is sanctuary from the everyday mill and a little fevered, guilty love.
(Written in association with The Airplane Poetry Movement, in response
to its poetry prompt for Week 15 in the form of the picture given below)
Thank you for reading. If you are interested in the many ways I try to
map my path, here are the links to my
Instagram (for poetry and music)
YouTube (for music)
And if you saw this gif I shared on my FB page yesterday- no
correlation with this post, I said ;) - but if you know the feeling
of sometimes just wanting to simply rip out our lives so we can make a
fresh start somewhere, then this is it.
All text
and pictures belong to ©
Ruchira Mandal except the picture prompt which is from Key Nomiyama via APM and the gif which belongs to Marvel Studios and the collective imagination of the internet people. ¯\_(ăƒ„)_/¯
Please let me know what you think of this post in the comments.
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