Oil and water

I have a heart, that beats
that hops skips and jumps
at the very sight of you
that dances a little
when it's your time to come
that smiles
at how blissful our little life is

I have a heart that stops, some times
when the sunlight filters, through those honey coloured eyes
when the summer breeze, gently messes up your hair
when your lips part and you utter my name


I have a heart that silently weeps
for each day lived, is another day lost
for even an eternity with you would never be enough

I have a heart, that beats in me
to let me know -
how blessed, I am
and how wretched, time is.

IT

More often than I should, I think about it.
About, just how conveniently it would cease all my worries.
About, how going through just another day will not feel like a mammoth task.
About, how easy and peaceful it would be  
About, how this pain in my being would stop suddenly.
About, how much it would devastate my family.
About, how my breathing and beating would cease.
About, how nothing would matter. That all that mattered would be lost. Forever.

But, I carry the pieces my life and myself.
I stitch and sew.
I mend and bend.
And move, I do. Move to find what eludes me most.

And I do think about it, still, more often than I should.

The zip incident

Last Saturday, I got a beautiful red black dress.
It was the kind of dress that you look at - on the mannequin and just have to have.
I was so so keen to wear it and have it that I did not really care about the zip which was a little troublesome.
I thought for a dress as perfect as this I am sure I could put up with a troubling little zip.

Today, I decided to wear it. I put out my best pair of black leggings, matched my shoes, jacket, even decided on the perfume  - the works. After all, it was "the" dress.

After scrubbing and shining myself I slipped in the dress. I was so excited, then, started the struggle with the seemingly trivial zip problem. It moved a few inches and then it was stuck. I could not pull it up. I could not pull it down. It was stuck. I could not get out of the dress with out actually hurting myself or the dress. And the clock is ticking.

I then try waxing the zip. Tried the lead on the zip. It just would not budge.

My mind is racing with thoughts of the things lined up at work. I m very aware of the tick tock of the clock. And the stupid zip would just not budge. It was like the zip wanted to just get back at me. My mind was like:


                Panic. Panic. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
                Why did Pallav (my husband) had to leave early today?
                Oh Zip please come up. Up. Up. Up.
             
After struggling with it over 20 mins, I decided to just wear the jacket and head to work and get some help there, with the stupid zip.

I sit in the car and fire it up and I am like - Oh god what if I have an accident how will I explain the zip? What am I going to tell my manager - who is a man - oh I am sorry for being late my zip was stuck?!

I got to work safely, got help from a very kind colleague to do it up for me.

Moral of the story : Details are just as important as the package.

Life. Huh?

So I have not written a long long time and now I am so full - not just with things I want to write about but I am so done and full with life. I feel and think everything is overrated.

This post is not intended to gather your attention or encourage you to empathize or sympathize with me. Actually, in my current state of existence I don't even know why or what I want to achieve out of writing this. But, I do feel this unstoppable urge to just pour my mind in words. And I do know that writing this makes me vulnerable.

For the last few years I feel everything has been happening in a daze. Like, I am in an express train - passing trees, buildings, people's faces seem to stretch and suddenly disappear, everything is just passing me by, like life is passing by and taking a tiny part of my soul with it each time. Like my essence is getting lost. I can't seem to get a grip on it. I don't know where the train is headed to. I don't know who is driving it. Like a fool, I am just sitting in the train and watching everything go by, wanting it to stop, wanting to scream to make it stop. Sitting in the train I make plans of making it stop, of appreciating what I see, of being a part of the journey. I try to soak it in, to make sense of it and I fail miserably. My insides churn not with physical pain but with sheer enormity of it all. All I want is the train to stop. To let me get off it. To let me stand and stare.


But, it chugs along. Like I don't exist. I don't matter.
Like I am just one of those thousands of leaves that are shed by trees each autumn. And when the new season will come I will be forgotten. Not that it scares me, the thought of being forgotten what scares me is not being a part of some thing. Of not belonging.

May be I am just messed up. Totally messed up and entangled within the complex strands of life. The more I try to untangle myself, the more tangled I become. Which freaks me out even more. So I sit in the tangled strands of my messed up life, hoping, yes still, hoping the train would somehow stop and this web of life would make sense.