When the sun stops shining

Can you imagine how tiring it is to shine constantly? To be the beacon of hope; the bringer of life.

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Can you imagine how tiring it is to be the sun? The world may fall asleep, then rise, go about their day’s work, and then sink into bed again. But the sun, no, it never sleeps. It never stops shining. At every given second, there’s one part of the world covered in its golden hues.

But can you imagine how tiring it is to shine constantly? To be the beacon of hope; the bringer of life.

And that’s probably why, sometimes, it dulls down. Otherwise, how could a few clouds manage to dim the great ball of fire; it’s magnificence unparalleled? Neither could a puny moon eclipse the solar god into dusk, right?

No, the sun sometimes gets tired of producing one yellow stream of thought after another; another golden ray that sets another life alight. And so, it lets the monsoon play for a while; or allow the dust winds to gear into action small tornadoes that make everything seem brown. Sometimes, the sun even drapes a shroud of cold, dull smog—a small win for the polluting mankind.

But only for a short time.

Because its very soul is fire; sheer flames with the potential to burn everything down in its path.

So, after a short break, the sun gets up like a dog or cat from its nap; shrugs the dust of comfort and compliance; yawns to shake away the misery of drudgery, and then, trots towards its feisty spirits that wait in patience, slowly gathering pace.

Sometimes, it’s assisted by cheery friends called seasons. They swoop by and supply the necessary dose of energy, bringing with them loud noises that shatters cars’ windowpanes. Other times, they materialise in silence and simply exist in tandem.

And then, just like the sun, your soul breaks from its dull reverie and shines like the fiery spirit it is.

Loneliness lies between your fingers

The loneliness lies in the invisible nooks and crevices of your life. An inevitable stamp that coats every fibre of your being, separating you from the world.

Loneliness lies in the crevices between your fingers that were once filled. It’s like the skin there is marked with the knowledge and remembrance. And it now calls to relive the experience of another skin. Of your friend, your child or your parent. Or maybe even the distant lover who refuses to leave that deep set corner of your mind.

Loneliness, it sometimes is in the invisible outline of a hand at the small of your back. It’s in the memory of a time in another lifetime of being held and maybe even loved. And sometimes, it’s in the caresses showered on your body, when your thighs rested against his. When your chest lined her back as support. Or in the nape where their shoulder met their neck, the place where your cheeks and nose rested in love. And in the laugh-lined crinkle of your eyes that were once alive with joy. Or in the fullness of your lips that their tongue once explored.

Loneliness lies in the warmth that once coated your body, and has now seeped into your soul. A warmth that oddly now leaves you cold and shivering on a balmy night.

And sometimes, loneliness stares back at you from the dark ceiling of your room, on a starry sleepless night. And if you decide to go for a stroll, it reflects in the night’s moon and the stars, which once held all the hopes and dreams of a happy future, but now seem distant and lifeless. And when the day’s tiredness slowly pulls your lids shut, the loneliness falls from the ceiling to softly drape over you and the empty space next to you. It’s the thick warm quilt you snuggle under.

Loneliness, my friend, is not in the solitude. It’s in the company, or lack thereof. It’s in the outside world. And in the memories that line the inside of your mind, like a million movies playing continuously non-stop. Or in the gaps and spaces in your heart.

Loneliness lies in the very nerve endings of your skin, that’s now exposed to their absence, perhaps for ever.

Silence

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Silences.

There are many kinds of silences witnessed in our world.

The silence of peace and quietude;
The silence of indifference;
The silence of death, war and destruction;
The silence of pain, sorrow and grief;
Even the silence of love and romance, as lovers stare into each others eyes;
The silence of observation;
The silence of a mental conversation;
The silence of quiet contemplation and deep thought;
Or even the silence of the moment of decision-making;
Then there’s the silence of companionship;
The silence of expectations—often called a pregnant pause;
The silence of nature, confident of its own ways and whims;
The silence of vacuum;
The silence of mutual understanding;
Even the silence of focus and concentration, the likes of which you see in exam halls, each to their own;
There’s the silence of meditation and spirituality;
The silence of emotions when words fall short of doing true justice to feelings;
The silence full of unsaid words and meanings;
The silence of shock,
And there’s the silence that fills you in solitude.

But there’s a silence like whiplash; if words can hurt, then this can sting, in ways unimaginable.

And that is silence that follows a death of a relationship, when two people suddenly run out of things to speak about, a blinding contrast to times when words overflew and toppled over one another like waterfall. The silence that follows then is remarkable. That, more than anything else, can break your heart into pieces.

Looking through the rear-view mirror

Hindsight is a bitch. It has convinced me that the present has severe eye-sight issues. Logic helps act as a poor replacement for spectacles. But it rarely gets the timing and mind-speed right.

And that’s why, hindsight!

Imagine if we were to drive with a muddy front glass, and exceptionally clear rear-view mirrors.

I often feel my glass is muddier than average. I call it the anti-climax phenomenon.

My mind is forever in that mode, even during normal conversations. Remember, the dialogue in the movie ‘You’ve got mail’ where the female protagonist complains that she never thinks of appropriate responses at the spur of the moment, but much much later? Yep, that’s me. Except, this happens all the time, and not just when I’m angry.

It’s like my mind goes into mute mode the moment I have company. It doesn’t shut off, but its input process overtakes the output process. Like your mouse and keyboard are working, but you see the reaction of clicking or typing hours later on the screen.

I know it means my mind needs solitude to process thoughts. But, even day-to-day conversations? That’s taking it too far.

As a result, I not only have thoughts in my head during my me-time, but continuous relays of past conversations, their thousand possible responses and the repercussions!

Where’s my pensieve?! (Heck, that spelling looks incorrect. Hmpf!)

And to add to all this, there’s hindsight, churning out smart little observations, pointing out missed opportunities and mistakes.

What’s the point! It’s not that I can go back in time and change things, can I? Yes, I know I’ll learn from it, but how often do we have the exact same situation repeat in life? The next lesson is always different? There’s no point.

It’s like we are simply moving in circles!

P.S.: This post itself is an example of the delays in my mind and the effects of solitude. A lot of thoughts have burst forth in one day. Ergo, three posts! Who knows, maybe I will end up writing another before hitting the bed!