Exactly 3 months ago, on one fine morning, I decided that I had enough of it...ever since every morning I’ve been thinking thus. But the point is, does it matter? Completely beaten, tired of the same sick, stale thoughts...and most importantly, craving for something new...it’s like beating your head against the wall, until either of the two gives in...really, come to think of it, are we all condemned like Sisyphus? Till as mr.camus says, the ‘final why’ arises?
Yeah...I hang up my soul to the ceiling above me and try to have a conversation with it. Worth it? at times certainly...when you are too conked up to think rationally(now that can happen EVEN if you’re NOT drunk). It’s like, you let yourself being pinned down and let others rape you emotionally. Maybe this arises from a deep lack of self love. And then you want to put an end to all of this...but wait, not so fast...remember, condemned like Sisyphus? So you can’t. And you yet again keep beating your head against the wall, have absurd, crazy conversations with your soul dangling from the ceiling...that’s a scary thought...was kafka right when he said, “the only meaning of life is that it stops”...life to kafka, some say, was extremely complicated. Nah...life couldn’t be simpler to the dear man. Depressing maybe, but certainly not complicated.
Walking the same street again, and not feeling the same. Instead what you encounter is a bunch of terrorising memories(cherished at some point of time), snatching you away from reality each time you want to cling to it. For me, I don’t even try...they will succeed, they are the stronger ones...the only way I can fight back is to let them do their job, and not mess around with them too much. What’s the use? If someday, they decide to leave on their own, I’ll heave a sigh of relief...but aren’t we condemned forever? A mistaken dream-mistaken for reality...shreds of laughter lace the sky...some moments turned bitter...and the ultimate losing of self...maybe never to be regained again
And then, what made me write all this?
Lonesome Blues.
I fill up this page with some unwanted scenes,
The sparkling wine of music flows, though forever,
When the rains are here, I shall lie to the glory of my lover,
Whose love evergreen shall this mortal soul drink…
Tonight I draw upon the grave sweetness,
The fevered heart receives in shame and pain,
To the merrier moments I plead in vain
To stay, stay and drown these days…
If I were looking for a greater joy,
In the depth of this womb, dark and blind,
It was to end in a futile cry of the mind,
An effort to see through the Greater Ploy…
If I were to swim the strangest ocean,
And I were to sail away with the slow dreams,
Let me hold your hand to go beyond the smallest streams,
To feel the warmth, for the dawn of heaven…
I seek for no answer; is there none?
Tired eyes stare at the unexplained sun,
Of greater deeds lost and undone
In the charmed circle of lonesome blues…
-Siddhartha Chatterjee.
Lonesome Blues.
I fill up this page with some unwanted scenes,
The sparkling wine of music flows, though forever,
When the rains are here, I shall lie to the glory of my lover,
Whose love evergreen shall this mortal soul drink…
Tonight I draw upon the grave sweetness,
The fevered heart receives in shame and pain,
To the merrier moments I plead in vain
To stay, stay and drown these days…
If I were looking for a greater joy,
In the depth of this womb, dark and blind,
It was to end in a futile cry of the mind,
An effort to see through the Greater Ploy…
If I were to swim the strangest ocean,
And I were to sail away with the slow dreams,
Let me hold your hand to go beyond the smallest streams,
To feel the warmth, for the dawn of heaven…
I seek for no answer; is there none?
Tired eyes stare at the unexplained sun,
Of greater deeds lost and undone
In the charmed circle of lonesome blues…
-Siddhartha Chatterjee.
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