no evidence of wings no trace of sunlight the sky is crying day and night waiting for a spark of fire eyes closed, knees bent, heart broken I lay concentrated waiting to be diluted this isn't my tune this isn't my day this life isn't my life when will the sky stop crying no amount of consolation works no amount of thinking about it works when the sky weeps, I weep I'm so old and deserted my home weeps no weather can shatter me more the quiet outside doesn't last I comb my hair with the fingers of my right hand and die.
I’m trying to make a sense of all this madness that has surrounded me recently. It is a fact that I didn’t ask for any of it. Also, the amount that I’m getting paid to face all this sheer madness isn’t fair. I deserve more. Forget about the money. I deserve quiet more than anything else. At the same time, I think that I deserve the worst, or maybe I deserve nothing. I’m at a spot where I want to punish myself and I want the biggest rewards to myself. Also, I do not loathe punishments and I do not work for rewards. All of this looks like a phase of transition to me. It’s painful to the mind. Endlessly painful. It’s no surprise that I make it out alive every morning. I work hard for it. I am my biggest support. I try to stay clear-headed in any situation. It is something that comes at its own cost.
But all this madness makes me wonder now, ‘Why all this! And why with me!’ No, I do not complain. I’m just tired, too exhausted to even keep my eyes open. I’m exhausted and I’m hungry. Yeah, I think it’s that. Give me food and water and let me go to sleep.
I was back there after a few nights. Back in the same cafe. Late night. A few of them were back there too, sitting, talking, making fun of each other. I took a seat outside and lit a cigarette. I was listening to Paterlini. Everything feels calm when I listen to his music. I closed my eyes for a moment. A strange sense of joy filled my chest. I couldn’t help but smile. The smile was a big one, and it lasted on my otherwise dull face for a good few seconds.
Soon, a friend walked in. He walked straight inside, talked to a few people sitting there, and then walked back to my place. He sat opposite to me. He had his earphones on. He was listening to something too, or maybe he was watching something on his phone. ‘What’s new?’ he asked. I nodded in no. I had nothing to say. I was floating in this calmness listening to the beautiful music of Paterlini. I wasn’t interested in engaging in any kind of conversation.
Soon, two more friends arrived. The time was 23:39. I didn’t plan to stay there till late. Maybe I’ll go home in fifteen minutes, I thought.
All four of us were sitting on the chairs outside with a couple of tables between us. We ordered coffee and pasta. I didn’t mind eating too much. I didn’t mind ordering more food. I hadn’t had a full meal in two days.
Our food kept arriving. We kept eating. Soon, a giant arrived. A virgin giant, that’s what everybody who knew him called him. He arrived on a rather puny motorcycle sitting between two of the most drunk men of the city. What is wrong with them today, each one of us were thinking inside our heads.
The two drunk men got off the motorcycle and climbed the stairs stumbling along the way to us. They both took the table next to mine and sat with their arms resting on their knees. They were breathing heavily as if they had just finished a half marathon.
The virgin giant was staring at all of us. He was a giant but he was young. He had strength but not the experience of life. He could deadlift 270 kilograms like it’s nothing. But when asked about what he would do with his life, he was as confused as any other young man.
He sat on the big empty space on the floor between our tables. ‘Today I make sure he loses his virginity’ shouted one drunk man pointing at him. The giant was a giant but in the moment he felt shy. Shy as if the drunk man was going to screw him in the ass. Shy as if he weren’t born with a dick. Shy as any wet cat would feel when spreading for the first time.
The virgin giant, out of shyness, hid his face, kept laughing. The two drunk men, got up and tried lifting him off the ground but failed. ‘Wait. Wait! I’ve got this whore waiting for you. Only for you. Now don’t make her wait for too long! Up up up. C’mon!’ one drunk man was shouting and laughing and scolding the virgin giant. The virgin giant felt embarrassed, he could hardly laugh.
It continued like that for an hour, after which, the virgin giant got up and ran away. His ass had turned red from embarrassment. It could be seen on his face when he was leaving. The two drunk men sat down in their places and continued to drink more, cussing and screaming and shouting. The friends began to leave one by one.
My time was ruined. I got up and tried to feel again that feeling of listening to Paterlini for the first time. I failed. I washed my hands and walked to my motorcycle. I sat on it and drove back home. The time was around 1:15 in the morning.
Been away for a long time. A while ago, I was sitting with this friend of mine in his shop’s backroom. We were talking about how something must be done soon. About what, we couldn’t say. But something must be done. That much is clear. It is as if everything has come to a standstill. It is as if we are alive but we do not feel so. Something, hence, must be done to feel alive.
But what. Should we start a new business. Should we make a youtube channel like many others. Should we make an instagram travel account. Should we start vlogging. The thing is that it isn’t enough to start something. The question is why start anything at all. What is compelling us to take on something new. Maybe because we are capable of doing far more that what we are currently doing.
Our conversation was cut short by the arrival of a third man, a nuisance, a menace to the society in general. At that point, we stopped talking. We let the third man talk. He was angry at something. About what, I didn’t wish to know. A million things anger me, but it’s not anyone’s business. Only mine.
Soon, the third man left. Our conversation couldn’t resume immediately upon his leaving. Something about that space had changed. Maybe our moods changed. Maybe we were too exhausted from the routine that we were unable to talk further.
Soon, the clock struck 9 o’clock. We got up, walked out of the shop, locked it behind us and we drove back to our homes as quietly as we could.
Today was another bad day. I woke up very late with pain in my thumb. Somehow, I fractured it a few days ago. I was in another town and one rainy morning, I slipped and fell on my ass while I was strolling downhill. A couple of folks gathered around me and helped me in getting up.
‘You ok man? Did you hurt yourself?’ asked a folk.
‘Oh I’m ok. I’m ok. Nothing serious. I think I can walk fine’ I replied as I stood up and brushed the dust and wet mud off my joggers and t-shirt with my palms.
I was wrong of course. It did hurt when I started to walk but I kept walking quietly. I didn’t ask for help. Generally, I ask for help only when the situation is dire. I have got endurance like no one else. I can take any kind of hurt now. I can observe my own pain and not feel stressed about it. So I kept walking and after walking for an hour, I reached home.
Upon reaching home, as I got into cold shower, it began to hurt in more places. As I dried myself with a towel, I felt my right leg hurting from top to down. As I lay down in my bed for some time, I could feel the pain sedate me. When my eyes opened up a couple of hours later, I couldn’t manage to even sit on the bed. I got down the bed somehow, and despite all the hurting, I got dressed and went on another stroll uphill.
The next morning, the pain was excruciating and I decided to go on a short trek through the woods. When I reached the top of the hill, I had unbearable pain in my body but when I saw the view of the hills and the incessant rain over the hills and the fog settling down on the whole city, I felt at ease. I sat there for three hours, doing nothing, witnessing the crazy rain wash everything. Then as the dusk came, I began my walk downhill. It was raining still. By then, my right palm was swollen. I guess I fell too hard on it.
I remember walking uphill. I remember beautiful symphonies. I remember the taste of bad beer and bad wine. I remember taking a nap under the sky while I lay on a huge boulder with a valley of emptiness beneath me. I remember feeling no pain then. I remember crying in closed rooms and then walking out of them without a trace of sadness on my face. I remember gulping down my anger. I remember feeling pissed off with the idiocy and hypocrisy of people everywhere. I remember waking up late every day, demotivated to go to work. I remember pain. I remember being in love. I remember my enemies well. I remember their hatred towards me. I remember being made fun of. I remember being nothing. I remember being a nobody. I remember this night when I get to writing once again.
Almost one month into the year and I can already feel myself failing at my commitments to myself. The beginning has been very rough and quite taxing. I’m slumping. Maybe I should go to the altar and confess all my sins even though it won’t change a thing. Maybe I should just stay quiet and keep doing my thing. Maybe I should run away from everything like the coward that I am. Maybe there’s a god for each one of us. Maybe it’s time to hit the bottom and begin from there anew.
How hard is it to make two people talk. How hard could it be. How hard could the hardest of our problems really be. Do they have anything in them? Or maybe we just couldn’t talk about them. Why burden somebody with the weight of our own problems. Imagine a big circle, and anybody could come there and sit inside the circle and just talk about their problems. Sometimes, talking about the problems aloud helps to understand them in a better way. And without understanding our problems, how can solutions be found.
Why do I wake up with this damned feeling. I can’t feel my wings. I know they are there. Why am I living with this damned feeling. I’m paying for my sins. There’s a cost to going mad and staying that way. I lay down and try to breathe. Something hollow is growing inside of me. A sinking feeling. I do not wish to fall sick again. I want to fly. Well, that’s far fetched. I want to feel good again. I want this curse lifted off of me. It’s been very long.
Consistency is the key. To keep doing it everyday no matter what. To take time out for doing it. To keep your vision clear every moment. To visualise your dream every moment. To work towards your vision every moment. To have a single goal and not be wavered from it. To confront your fears every moment, to kick obstacles out of your way. To keep walking ahead no matter what.
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