Author Archives: Tanaya
Do not be proud of what you have,
Never condemn in your perceived perfection
Things stay constant for but a fleeting second
The condemned shall rise to dispel your misconceptions
Exercise caution, Beware!
They may be fictitious, the things for which you care
Your life may stray, from plan far away
Reduced to the cinders of a laughable play
The bat of an eye,
A twist of fate,
Reality walks with a gleam in the eye,
Only to one day make you see
How mercurial life can be!
The fickleness of friendship
The brevity of love
The longevity of pain
The plan from up above
The unreasonable responsibilities
the reasonable guilt at shirking it
The unsurmountable mountain of expectations
The small hill of your ambitions
The fight within you, you are constantly losing
The fight outside, you must win
The quest you began, lying forgotten
The road thrust on you, under your feet
The memories, bittersweet,flashing,fleeting
The ambitions, like dreams, caricatures and unease
What is your life?
The child sees, wants, builds a wonderful castle
The adult understands, bargains, and cuts it down to size
Life is nothing but a child’s dream being rudely broken by an adult’s reality.
The end of something. Is it really the beginning of another?
I think something somewhere just dies.
Never to be the same, ever.
The loss of someone. Overcome because you found another?
I think it strange to replace soul with soul.
But we constantly want better.
If only, we knew better.
Writing is like my purging ritual. Its a cathartic process, it makes me put things in perspective and get them out of my system. Its like crying for me, its got healing properties. But then there are some times that you just can’t express what you feel. Or that you have had enough of explaining or talking about urself in a world where nobody really listens. After all, this is a public platform, and used mostly to broadcast posts. But I have never really looked at my blog like that. Its my world where I share things that I don’t/can’t otherwise. Where I ramble without fear of judgement or prejudice. It may not be the truth, but i’m going to assume it to be true for a while. Most of my posts remain drafts because I’m never fully convinced of this thought. But today i’m going to assume and overlook. Otherwise this silence is can be numbing.
I really don’t have anything specific to talk about. I just want to talk. I want to tell things I have been cataloging in my memory for conversations that will never happen. I want to tell how happy I was when I got an unexpected birthday present I always wanted (a painting easel!), how happy I was when a friend posted an exceptionally nice birthday wish on my timeline, how sad I was when I realised I should have spent more time knowing this particular friend and being with her, how sad I was when a friend I really cherished slowly started to drift away from me. I want to share the anxiety that lurks just under my skin about my uncertain future, I want to share the accomplishment of finally finishing a big and much awaited part of my life, I want to share the fact that I have been unable to express my emotions with anyone for a while, that i’ve become very good at pretending. I want to talk about how I felt when I got rejected from one place after the other, but also about how nice I felt when I finally finished writing my thesis. I want to be able to explain the pain it is, still, to go to work to the same place everyday, and how I have made myself immune to that emotion now. I want to talk about every insignificant detail of my life, but I have not, not the things that really matter to me anyway. I was not like this, but I have changed, and its mostly for the better I guess. Its not necessary to talk about everything. You mostly just end up making a fool of yourself.
There are spaces within you that cannot be shared, healed, mended or removed. These spaces often contain a myriad of emotions and memories, but sometimes they overflow and get so crowded they start to die, leaving nothing at all.
There is no filling some voids. They will always be there. In all their nothingness. I need to accept that.
Did you hear the noise?
I just fell out of grace
It was not by choice
The sand seems slimy
Time is uncertain
Its running out fast, blimey!
The memories boil
Anger, love, friendship,
Contentment turned to turmoil
The phone cried
Call, message, a reminder?
No, The battery just died.
We are scared,
Its not perfect, It may never be
Lets not pursue a dream that is not meant to be
Lets spare us the pain, the trials of love
that otherwise may stay forever
If it was an easy choice, shouldn’t I rejoice?
Seems Something is not quite right.
It seems the only solution, the inevitable end
It seems only logical, Its not just a bend
Anymore, its a full blown dent
If it is so simple, shouldn’t I feel light?
But Something is not quite right.
Its a matter of choice,
Its a matter of wants.
Its shaping your life by the will of your hands.
Its choosing a future
But loosing a past
Its hoping the decision was right
And may last.
If the biggest fear, still
Is the knowledge that you will be forgotten
That promises easily overwritten
That you lose the right to fight,
Something is definitely not right.
But some decisions are such
They’re a one-way street
You each take your own,
And wish, that one-day
They may meet!
Looking for a new view
Seeking the Old, in a new purview
Old is familiar, safe and easy
New is unknown, murky and scary….
Old is stable, secure and sure
But it needs New; constant recourse
New brings action, hope and life
Old is gold; but stagnant it dies
Keep the Old, with a dash of new….
Every once in a while,
Change the damn view!
We build around,
Ourselves in a thought
Nay, a reality.
“Its true, so true
I’ve never been blue
For lack of love for me.
Its perfect, my life
all “quadrants” alive
I got what I wanted
In a heartbeat’s time”
These Mirages they keep
You in an oasis of sleep
A promise of relief
to a parched throat,
Of rest and happiness
to a parched soul.
Like a fantasy though,
The oasis is fickle and fragile
You think you get it,
Something is not right
You see through clouded eyes,
A picture perfect life
Till one day the atmosphere decides,
Its deluded you enough this life
It breaks the illusion
Ruthless, just leaves confusion
And u wonder, unstrung
Were u better off deluded?
or are u now more alive?
All I wanted today
Was to run far away
To leave it all behind,
To hide myself in a shrine
With relics of my past,
Of a future I dreamed the night before last
Peaceful at heart, soul and mind,
And at peace with itself at the same time
Beautiful memories of times gone by,
Aspirations to build new memories, to try,
And yearn for a life that makes you proud,
Content, happy and devoid of the shroud,
Tired I am of donning which,
Its time I retired it, let it sit,
Its time I run away,
Far far away…..
I know I havent written for a while now, things have been so busy lately I hardly get any spare time. But I have time today, due an unforseen and unwanted error of sorts. If you know me and what I do, its not very hard to guess what may’ve happened, and I shall leave it at that.
All this while, I didn’t realise that creativity was leaking out of me. I kept postponing creative pursuits, thinking other things were more demanding. I kept loosing touch with my creativity. I always thought the culprit was time. ‘I shall get to it when there is time, and there it will be, waiting for me like no time had passed.’ Hah.
But now I feel I was wrong. Every time I chose something else over pursuing my creativity, a part of it died, or left me. Its like it felt abandoned, it felt cheated and lost. I’m sure it must’ve waited for me for a while, but it couldn’t handle the long bereavement. Can I blame it for leaving me? I guess not. I was an unfaithful partner. But I loved it nonetheless. I loved it like I’ve loved nothing else, for it gave me the most beautiful, happy and contented moments of my life. I cherished it most dearly, for I thought it precious; One of the few things I was proud of possessing.
I may deserve what I got, I don’t have enough to debate there. But I miss my creativity, my random bursts of talent, my happiness on the successful creation of a work of art. Its painful sometimes to feel handicapped, to be not able to put on paper what you want to, the way you want to. I guess that’s just my curse for not nurturing what I was given.
What amazes me is how despite this realisation and the pain it causes, I continue ahead on the path where I see no redemption.
Such is life…sometimes you ruin it yourself.