That time heals, is an untruth..

Composite blocks of elegant yet sad-looking masses of humanity, drift to and fro in front of the gates of the shamshabad international airport. The gut wrenching pain of separation complements the equally acute sense of impending loneliness. The two concoct a dance of misery and debilitating anguish with consummate skill.

The act of having left a part of myself back in a land that is so very far away plummets me into nadir depths from which there is no comeback.

The compass has shattered, the needle roving without direction. My pupils dilate, my face goes bright, my eyes start to water. I think of red-hot coals, dried, angularly bent willowy trees, sun blackened and rotting. sleep is rarer than gold, nodding-off is a luxury that is beyond reach. The inner chasm runs so deep that the relief of going for a few moments without thought, or thinking about anyone but that epitome in human beauty and ecstacy, is an effort so superhuman, that it destroys me.

Not all words are created equally, with a kiss of dark flavor, and a silky feel, the word desired by the mind will make you disdain the world to pay obeisance to it. Fizzle out, simmer, make haste for the world awaits you. The red carpet rolls out in anticipation. But the aircraft is empty, no one descends, the flash bulbs go off in vain, the wind rustles past an empty tarmac, my dramma tragicomico. Extending into the secunda praticca of my life, the directions go haywire, each contradicting the other, there will be no end, only a glimpse of what may have been...

The lights dim outside the window, the night takes hold, the candles flicker, burn, blackening the walls, slowly with indescribable stillness, the blackness merges into the turquoise of dawn, the candles die out, and the insomniac has waged another fruitless battle on the goliath that is the blessed oblivion of sleep...

"Arancione' vi dentro solaris"

musings through the night.......that time heals, is an untruth...

Total genuflection to reality.....the personal post...

Rejuvenation was never so sweet to the mind than it is now.

Thoughts that were muddled and viscid for so long, start flowing freely in complete harmony.

The sharp line dividing the abstract and the real dissolves into a nether state of acceptance. The relief the mind derives by being liberated from the shackles of pure thought into commonplace, everyday, mundane activities is overwhelming.

Descending to mortal thought processes, the vivid, balmy currents of fresh scent laden air into the innermost recesses of my senses, awakening, even the long dormant, ability to compose lilts that ensnare and enrich every aspect of my life.

My daily routine...

Surrounded by a retinue of people I know, the day stint starts. The very fact that in this strange land, secluded from the idiosyncracies that one is familiar with, I can still connect with such people is in itself flabbergasting.

There is a beautiful Arabian custom that makes eternal friends of those who have together eaten bread and salt under the same roof.

It is an irreversible process. Elaborate thought must be evoked prior to proceeding upon the selected path. One that I can say with some pride to have accomplished correctly.

A detour into normality..

The heaters work, the sleep is sound, the phone rings in its shrill tone that brooks no excused digressions. Groggily, I answer the call, the pitter patter of rain on some roof in the tropics can be heard in the background. The voice on the other end is mellifluous in its modulation and pitch. The memories come flooding back, I suddenly realize that for this particular call I would require myself to be with all my wits about me and not as I actually was.

To minimize loss in generality, I am at my most vulnerable, when I am awakened from a deep sleep, or disturbed when reading a novel. The former is slowly turning into a real liability.

I stop dilly-dalliying and grumble out a 'hello'. The rest is drowned out intentionally, which goes to show for a fact that the conversation would interest readers as much as watching grass grow, or better, watching me get a job in this forsaken hole. Either way, the gist of the conversation is me doodling, and the mellifluous, modulated voice at the other end doing what it does best: speak mellifluously and in a modulated way. However at the end of the so called conversation I doodled some more, the voice modulated some more and so it did end.

Thenceforth, methinks, in a very original manner that my world has forever changed for the better, the colors seem more colorful, the hues more sharply differentiated, the most everyday jobs elevated to interesting endeavors. Adventurism has become the new watchword, and caution, as they say, has gone out the window.

My present happiness equals my past misery.