The glass that is half empty is the same that’s half filled (your words, right?)…let’s put it this way- it’s our perspective of how can we be empathizing ourselves on the beacon of hope.
We are not together anymore, and I intend to not see you or hear you or not be your hindrance…my divergence from you must contribute every bit of it being your benefit. The glass that is half filled on your phrase is the same that is half empty on mine. And try as I may, I cannot take charge to fill the whole of it as distinctively you are packed and I am a vacuum.
As it is said “it’s better to burn out than to fade away”… I prefer the former. And when it’s about you, I wouldn’t just burn, I would blaze but I couldn’t fade. Though I keep stating to you that I want to get lost in the crowd so much that you won’t have the faintest idea of my existence, but somewhere may be even I want you to keep myself non-rotten from your memories. I want you to keep every moment that we have spent together, preserved and perpetuated, not burning because of whatever you think you are guilty of, but blister to brace your own happiness…
⌈Somehow I have been proud of the fact that you have given me this honor of being the keeper of your secrets, it’s not just the lighter laughs but the most sheltered of your secrets. You would dump into me, every dilemma that you go through at times, any frustration that you face, any wrong that bothers you, any mess that you are muddled in, anything that you wouldn’t share with anyone, but me. The despair I have out of all this is that I could be nothing more than a secret myself, in your life. But I am elated to be your garage- of expressions that you ponder, your garage of secrets, therapies, rejouvená and relief. I do not know how much of this is actually true. But let me blaze in my own perception that I loved to be your expression garage.⌉
The sand dunes dance with the rhythm of “khartaal” and tune of “sarangi”. It seems like the radiance of the Sun has colored the city all gold and the mystique of her history add feathers to her magnificence. Yes, it is the land of Jaisalmer – the land of forts, art, history, kingdoms and jewels and of course, The great Indian Thar desert. I always knew a visit to this destination would embrace me into its culture, but I didn’t know I would be far more involved than that.
The feeling of adrenaline, chills through the spine, a state where you don’t know anymore whether to laugh your heart out or cry…its is when a dream comes true. It was a dream of visiting this intriguing gold city and witness the astounding example of beautiful yellow sandstone, that made it real out of every bit I thought about the city’s marvel. Even the scorching heat of the city wasn’t potent enough to keep me from exploring even the most remote corner of the fort. The Nagaur goddess, spectacular painting shops, puppet dance and street-like curvature of the fort are astonishing.
The most scintillating feature of Jaisalmer is the aura of the incredible and shining great Indian Thar desert where the sand lays like the golden sheet allover…ethereal and endless…I almost felt like I found love. I buried my hands into the desert, fist it and dive into the intense relief of my instant acceptance by this raven gold. It seems like nothing could be a better home to camels, the animal actually compliments the existence of exotic Thar. Their quiet and dancing movements on the desert, leaving a trail of their footprints make a beautiful necklace on the golden beauty. The “banjaras” or the nomads could be found playing mesmerizing musical instruments and make the musical art flow like wind spreading their magic on the gold. I have been fortunate to experience the raw but subtle, beautiful music by the banjaras toxicating me with their folk flair.
I wrapped a turban out of my stole and could easily find myself being one of the inconstant, a ruler of my own, a banjara, accompanying a herd of folk dancers, a bonefire, folk music- the maand, the lyrics singing a plea to the long gone love of a woman who awaits her beloved to come back to her. It was everything inconceivable, sensational and miraculous, where I was bound to flow with richness of heritage and yet live the flavor of something that has been unseen before. A raven beauty.
Continue reading Expression garage – Jaisalmer…
Believing that we can empty our minds and relish our souls, our mind has collected in-numerous thoughts that have come across over the time, and the process of dumping one thought while making space for the next one in the queue of life; all those thoughts have probably seized themselves inside us somewhere so deep that negligence cannot be an armor of running away from them.
We have a spare room that stands out of walls of our homes though; it is no green, no lawn, no flowers and blossoms n stuff and neither it is porch where we can rock chairs with some refreshing cock/mock tail.
It’s the garage…
Where we are surrounded with all the trash, rusted iron sheets, dripping lubricant, some repair tools, the object of repair, some frustration and some raw drink as a companion.
So why not we create our own garage where we can repair ourselves? A garage where we can dump all the trash that has been rotting our imagination and dreams with thoughts buried deep down in us and has kept us robbed and left no space to rejuvenate. Why not we use the tools of weaknesses to become our strengths? Why not we replace the rusted emotions with new shiny metal of poems and notes of our journey ahead? Let’s scintillate our efforts of recycling our wasted/over-thought/ over-exhaustive minds and hearts that have already taken enough to effect the positive vibes we have in us. This is the GARAGE OF EXPRESSIONS– where we are set free to not only dump what we should let go…but also be a devout of revering our new wings of dreams aka realities. “Let’s surprise ourselves by being the origin of our own ideas.”
We welcome you on EXPRESSIONS@GARAGE to share what we could make out of our confused, challenged, and torn-and-stitched and yet an eventful saga of this interesting tale called life.