The problem with getting used to

Once upon a time I couldn't stand sitting in a car. Literally speaking, that's still true. But that is not what I meant. I used it figuratively. The closed doors. The unnecessarily muffled sounds. The used up air. Ugh. It made me sick. Never able to be in the car without all windows down. A/C? What A/C? I am struggling to breathe and you need A/C? Get out of the car! But I am getting too ahead of myself as most of the time it was "Let me out, just let me out!!".

Motorcycles. Ah, now that's more like it. Wind on my face. Arms flailing about any which way. Hair bike styled, standing there, with the dust, browning from the sun. Raising my perceived height by a few inches (or so a friend proclaimed after finding I was taller than her). Face parched from the lack of moisture. And yes, there were bugs. The first rain drops of the monsoon drenching everything but the steaming silencer. Twisting and turning in every nook. Stop where you wanted. Park wherever.

Now. In the car, I can hear myself think while driving. I can hear ear-busting music while driving. I can sing and shout at the top of my lungs! All that without the worry of consuming a new species of buzzing arthropods every time my buccal cavity is exposed. Significant reduction in chances of physical harm. And it has space. Think of all the things that can be done in that space. Yes, it curves, it purrs, it rages. Spoiling me. A few things amiss, Hair lost its stand, it just lazes around above the brow. The tan slowly fading away. Waiting in traffic! Damn high beams!!

Again, motorcycles. This time. They have 6 gears in a bike. WTH! KTM Duke 390. Whattay bike. The roaring blare of the engine. The pull back of the throttle. Wow! It scared the shit out of me. This felt like riding a cheetah through a jungle of puddles and bushes. Alas, it was only a test drive. Night driving took the fear to a whole new level. Could barely see anything in front of me, let alone the guy who just jumped out of nowhere to cross the road! Brake, please. I hit the break and it stops, where is the seat belt on this thing?? I forgot you can bend it around the obstacle. "Be like water" as Bruce said. I think he meant it for bikes. The rush blunted the chilly gust of Physics. Blindly curving hoping there would be no potholes.

The problem with getting used to is, it will also be gotten used to, and so forth.

P.S: It was Hero Honda CD 100 passed on to from my cousin to my dad to me, and now she rests with the mechanic, the only person who could service her needs. Forgive any exaggerations.

Experiment - 2: Give up or

Always wonder what makes one hold on to things. People. Places. How difficult it is to let that last morsel of adhesive, hinged by an inch. The joint is the only thing that keeps you together. Or so it makes you feel like, at least at that time.

If it comes undone, will it throw you overboard? Things haywire. Messed up. Everything going whichever way. The incoming currents leaks up way too faster than your hands can do to chuck it out. The rocks. The winds. Everything looks like it is out there to get you. And sure as hell, they greet you with their wicked grins. All you want to do is look for something to hold on to. Grab. Gnaw. Scratch. And when it gets calmer, you wonder, is that really going to save you? Then at the slightest shudder, hold on tighter. Run, looking for cover, for the next cooling zone. Wait until you can move to the next. Do you feel tired? Yes, you always feel tired. Tired of what is about to come, what is coming and what has gone past. Look for a poison, taking prescribed amounts just so that the silence gets less deafening.

Or... will it liberate you? Opening you to the world you don't know of. Things much clearer than they used to be. Pits you don't want, get filtered out at the top, leaving only an amalgam of rapturous emotions, to drown you. You float under the sun. Catching it with whoever cares to share. Moving, but unmoving. The sunlight doesn't blind you. Neither does the thunder rumble within you. There is only the search. No, not for an answer, the answer lies in the search itself. Run as fast you can. With no destination. Stop when you are tired, take in the high. Nothing to look for, there is no wait, because most of the things are now. Some things are going to be. You don't have to wait for anything. Everything you need is right there for your taking.

How long do we try not to give up? How long do we wait till letting go?

To complete the title, do you give up on something or do you let go of something? Some decide to give up, some to let go. Only time knows the entirety. Choice.

Stop-Start

Stop-Start

He says -
If my eyes glance upon your bright iris,
travel down your slender nostrils,
to the gap between your flush lips,
would you stop me?

If my shoulders grazed your sultry arms,
inch on under your uncovered biceps,
nudging into your silken skin,
would you stop me now?

If my palms brush your tarsals,
on towards the wedges of your calves,
back around your steaming thighs,
would you stop me now?

If my fingertips cruised along your perfect waist,
tracing a line through your tumultuous curves,
on the way, prodding the tips of your soft bosom,
would you stop me now?

If my lips slid down your well-marked neck,
flirting to sneak into the valley below,
snailing its way down to the vast, the paradise,
would you stop me now, though?

She says -
My dear,
why all this talk about stopping,
when all I am thinking,
why do you not start now?

Ready for life

So you start your day, everyday, there is traffic, some bug in iOS(damn you Apple), trouble staying awake at work after lunch, getting back sometime the same day, etc. Every day ordeals these.

This post is not about my or your everyday ordeals but what I saw today.

There was a girl. She looked at us. She couldn't stop looking at us. As if we had something that she wanted. So bad. The neglect. The utter expression of "why me?". Why can't I have what you have? She wants a normal life. A father, a mother, a place. A home with some warmth. She was surrounded by the same people everyday, spent most of her life with them. Yet she is as alone as anyone else in the room. Her eyes spoke what she could not. Her eyes beheld the tears within. Just a tinge, and there would be a deluge. Ah, the misery of youth. The torment of being a child unknown. What do you say when she says "Thank you"? "You are welcome" does a gross injustice to her gratefulness.

There were others. Some aware, most unaware. Too busy about how to use their fists to get some food into their gullets. What must be pain to them, I wonder. What must be joy. Yes I saw them laugh. They smiled back, they waved back. Coyly. A sheepish grin follows. And a twirl of the spinal cord. Then back to the dinner plate.

And there was another. I don't know how old she was. She looked small. But I could still see the years, they have been cruel to her. When we talk, she looks. Looking for dissent, searching our faces for what the exchange happening in our cold cruel tongue. But we smiled back, she tried. But she knew we knew she knew. She wished us a good night. And straddled away into her silence.

I feel I have a strong receptor for pain and my mind resonates with that pain when it is found. While moving among a crowd, I can see the pain meter radiating out of the crowd, and the empathy streams in like a gush of water released from a dam. And the cold sweat, a churn in the underbelly and a swallow of meaningless air. Waiting for the feeling to just wash over and leave me back. Yes, leave. Pain can carry one away, to a point where there is no pit deeper, no tundra colder, no vacuum more choking and no silence more stifling. Words are difficult to come by in these times. There is an absorption, a wait and an expulsion. The expulsion is key. Else I will be anchored there.

No, what I feel is not my pain. I am not sure my pain matters. But there was some light today. Illuminating the stony shadows. Some were, you could say callously, "ready for life". They do what is the most revered service to anything divine. Serving another being, nourishing them, caring for them till they can stand on their own. I wonder what gave them these superpowers. Then I was reminded, these people were in the same state what I see of the young ones now. Yes, hope. Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption. Everyday ordeals melted. I could see the glimmer of the ray that made these girls smile. And live. And have a life that is almost "normal".

Yes, this date, ten years back is blurring, as the rivers flow,  the forests burn and the stars die. I have no cognizance of the duration of the events. But my vision is clear as ever through this haze of time. Soon I will forget today's eyes, today's glances, today's waves, and start drowning in my pains and pleasures. But tonight I am going to let the glimpses stay a little longer, let it ebb and flow over me. Wash me over. Again and again.

P.S: Not much fiction, but there is little where facts are not necessary.