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Those who know me know my deep fascination with dreams – not just childish checking of meanings of dreams and laughing at them but, more so the vivid imagery that each dream has and how real it all seems. I am also known to have quite a set of vivid (for the lack of a more polite / politically correct word) dreams myself and the spirit of the morning usually comes from mulling over those dreams.
There are multiple times that dreams have inspired me to paint, write prose or poetry; leaving me intrigued at most times and a little shaken at others. After a long creative block, a recent one left me intrigued for days eventually leading to sketch above.
While I will refrain from getting into too many details of this dream, I can safely say that by far, it was one of the most alluring dreams I have had for some time. It started with me arriving in Gwalior with another person for some work. We step out of the pitch dark and quiet station into the night which has a strange shine to it, as if there is a hidden lamp behind the dark curtains of the night sky that is giving a light glow in the darkness. In my dream too, I cannot help but, marvel at the beauty of the night.
As we step out, we are greeted by sparkling clear, blue waters , lapping quietly at the gravel-ly shore. The moon is a huge golden orb that is glowing but, looks in despair as I overcome my urge to indulge in watching the beauty of the night and continue walking. With disappointment, the moon then casts a shadow as a sign of warning.
With a sense of foreboding, we walk away from the sight towards a building that is all bricks and mortar. I make a mental note of coming back while entering into part two.
As Poe says,
“All the we see or seem, Is but a dream within a dream.”
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Kuch dinon se mann me khayalon ka silsila kuch bhaaga bhaaga sa hai
Aisa lagta hai jaise ki mere andar se kuch chhut raha hai
ek ajeeb sa sannata hai andar
Bahar bahut shor hai, bahut bheed hai
Andar sirf shanti
Sehlaab ke pehle ki nahi, aisa lagta hai ye to uske saath aane waali chuppi hai.
Kaun hun main?
Kaun hai tu?
Kaun hain ye log sab jo aas paas ghoomte hain –
Muskurate hue ya udaas, chup chap ya bolte hue ya bas sar latkaye kahin jaate hue?
Kya hai ye zindagi ka safar aakhir?
Agar iss safar me hi sab kuch hai
To hum ja kahan rahe hain?
For a few days now, the threads of thought in my mind have been running here and there
Feels like, within, I am loosing something / something is being left behind
There is a strange quiet within (me)
There is a lot of noise without, a lot of crowd
Within it is just quiet
It is not the silence before the storm rather, feels like the silence accompanying the storm.
Who am I?
Who are you?
Who are these people who move about us –
Either smiling or sad, quite or talking or just walking somewhere with their heads hanging low?
What is this journey of life after all?
If the journey is what life is
Then where are we going?
Have been wanting to write on the idea of home for months now but, could not really get the words flowing.
I remember understanding home to be the house and times from childhood – such as a stray memories of coming back to the coolness of the house on a hot summer afternoon with a glass full of cold of Rasna ready in the fridge – essentially linking the idea of home with nostalgia. However, today that feeling of being ‘at home’ has come far away from that nostalgia as well which brought the question to the fore again, what was home exactly. I remember the feeling coming first while watching the sun rise or while watch trees go by as I moved further on the highway. This strange feeling of comfort was something that I did not understand then but, fell in love with deeper than the last time.
Comprehension dawned in another city which was alien and distant when seen from outside on a particularly breezy evening which complemented the warmth emanating from the setting sun’s rays. The joy which was felt in that moment was exactly the same that my mind had so far associated with nostalgia of home. That is the moment that mind started seeking to understand – the idea essentially was to understand and think through the concept of ‘home’ – in lieu of the constant tussle in my head as to where was home for me as so far the head believed home only to have a place in nostalgia. Was it a place, a person, an experience, a time or was it, after all, the version of self one is most comfortable being? Was it not the spatial or time based understanding? Questioning and looping in the same thought process for some time, I left the question hanging again since there did not seem to be a concrete answer whatsoever.
The thought process sprang back to action last Thursday after visiting an exhibit of four artists who basically express the idea of home in urban dwelling today – looking at smaller spaces, killing of natural and open spaces to build concrete jungles etc. The idea around which the question of home and spaces as represented in a few art works was more around the developmental critique of mindless urbanisation, creation of gated communities at the cost of a ruined environment and the foolish association of culture and status with being a part of these gated communities.A few strips from the latest series of Adarsh Balak (literal: the ideal male child) – the only one artist I knew of before visiting the show – were also up for display. His work being presented at the exhibition talking about ‘home’ is precisely what got the cogs of the machinery in the brain running. I won’t really get into the varied topics around urbanisation, environmental concerns etc. here – more on the show later in another post.
Going back to the point of this post. What is home exactly – I think home is a feeling that you associate a place, house, person, time with that makes you happy, that really soothing feeling of contentment. It could be anywhere, with anything being the trigger of contentment but, essentially, home is where one is absolutely happy – be it alone or with people or in communion with nature.
From the Ummeed Walk 2015.
There were those mornings
With collective laughter and joy.
Then there were
Those that started with
The stench of yesterday
Now there are these
That bring in
The chilly breeze
As if the calm coolness
Is a reminder of
The beauty that’s today.
Writing this came from a faint (and final, hopefully) acceptance of the beauty of letting go – not in a sad and fatalistic sense of doing so but, rather a very empowering way of having had whatever experiences one does have. I wrote this one on a particularly nippy morning when things around me were changing majorly; reminding me that even though things change which can be painful while going through it but, in retrospect it all makes sense, and quite beautifully so.