Shoudav made you listen

I felt that I was amongst the clouds. Because I was amongst them. Snugly enveloped, distant and loved. Floating away, effortless. In the lazy beauty of an infant dream, seeking respite from logic. Reason wasn’t my intrusion. It left the hopeless poet unprovoked. And she easily hemmed together improbably fantastic fantasies, coming alive now through a slightly parted window, inch by inch.

It was a magical day, Papa. In fact, it was your biggest gift to me. A plane ticket home. To everything I had ever wished for. I didn’t need no Disneyland and you knew how to pick your presents. I flitted, in between the clouds, in between sleep and wakefulness. Time seems to have discovered relapse. Maybe it had stopped. Maybe, Papa, the globe was too big a place for me to fit my head into. I didn’t know.

“And my heart is too light for anything to matter,” I wrote on the 19th of August, “Anything to matter at all.”

Beneath, the bloated pacific spanned the spaces, sparkling brilliantly in its amethyst glory, and the soul felt it’s throb, the low hum of its dips and fluid curves, the playful energy which exploded on many hundreds of shores, the raw majesty in its ecstatic pulse, the assured calm that it feigned from distance, the mischief, the shimmer, the vital force. It occupied me expansively like the lingering boom of a drum gently sounded. I was overwhelmed without a reason. As it filled me, I let it, settling into sleep-- this time, unencumbered.

There were no days, Papa. In that illusion, there were no nights. No light and no dark in my chimera. Just my thoughts to hold me, and just the love. Feel Happiness, I told myself, you ought to.

I waited.

It was strange. Happiness didn’t come in purity. It came with the pain of going so away from you, to half way across the globe. It came with the guilt that I hadn’t said the proper goodbyes, when my hurry made me ignorant. When I had overlooked your presence, when I had laughed off your remarks, when I had buried our conversations in mad excitement. The pleasant frenzy might have bothered you…oh, why couldn’t I behave? If I told you, you’d think I would be lying. Because I don’t behave, and I don’t tell you the things I’m supposed to, I know. But you see, Papa, no matter how much I cannot behave, no matter how much I never show it so splendidly, no matter how caught up I am in a the things that will not matter, I’ll never forget to love you. And then, some more.

I remembered.

The clouds were gold now. They effused life. They ignited. And as the heart rate quickened to a plastic smile from somewhere across, I awoke. Awoke to see the gold clouds. Awoke to see the happiness in existing, in comprehension. Awoke to understand that there was so much that I wanted to tell you, which I should, some day. Maybe a book. Maybe a poem. Maybe a conversation. But I would, someday. A new idea.

And as dehydrated fingers weakly moved to adjust the earphones, I knew which song to choose. Taylor Swift softly voiced another. I snuggled into the blanket, thinking of the music that you never heard, that I never thrust in your ear, because I believed that your favorites….had to be dense. And this was just a puerile teenager. Both of us. Such faulty assumptions make your daughter shifty sometimes.

But then as she spoke of our simplicity, of how below all the complex chaos I create.... there was this intact love, and it stirred in me. Below the layered excuses of too many relationships to manage, too many hands to hold, too many friends to talk to, too many midterms to write, too many miles to walk, too many busses to take, it had always been there. Right from the time when I didn’t know anything, to the time when I did gather a little wisdom….it had stayed familiar to me. The assuring permanence touched me as the biggest of human miracles. Simple, true and sure.

And as the sun came around again, illuminating my world with a bold dash of orange, vitality gushed back to me.

You gave me a plane ticket home, Papa. And I've had the best days with you. The thanks was in my head, the gratefulness in my heart. You had given me the best days, and now, you had granted me some more.....and you would, always.

I could feel again. I cried.

I knew I was heading towards something special. New Horizons were emerging. Both outside my window and within a grasp of an invisible future.

The song became lullaby, repeating again and again.

I was moving away, and towards--an adventure.

And then, I allowed the revebrations to break on distant shores.....

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6 Responses to Shoudav made you listen

  1. aravind says:

    awesome !!! keep it goin :-D

  2. u have a gift pk, ur dad will be proud!

    p.s. that song fits so perfectly!

  3. Marty: thankoo. will do, ara, even if people beg me to stop. :-) rambling isnt new to me, as you very well know. ;)
    Prithvi akka: glad you found it so. :) come backkk. love u much!!! <3
    KP: :) so nice of you to say that, kp! i hope he finds this an adequate present. and the song, yes, ive fallen in love with it myself. a simple, elegant masterpeice. :)

  4. Wow, beautifully written. I couldn't decide if this was prose or poetry or a lovely combination of both! All the best Lakshmi!

  5. Captain: thank you!
    please do keep him in your prayers.

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