Pairing!!

This is a general observation and I severely felt to write something on this!!
It may happen that many may relate this to their own lives or even mine.. :P
But I believe that's the beauty of Panorama!! ;)

Perhaps every relationship is doomed to monotony after a while. Or perhaps some people are just wired a different way. They are cursed to yearn for love and romance even when they've had it. They have the bottomless cup that never fills even if you keep pouring world's finest wines into it.

Drunks should not be paired with sober people. Sober people want more out of life. Drunks just want one thing - one more glass of gin, one more shot of whiskey. They want the same thing over and over again. Just one more. And sober people are not willing to keep a cellar full of just that. And yet all drunkards are cursed to ask the sobers to fill their cup, and it never really works. They won't love them back. You just have to find peace with it. Relish in the memory of the sweet taste of heaven, spend your remaining days yearning for the magnificent beauty of the first sighting of the damned wine. Find time to love and hate and love again, and never truly feel satisfied.

her rain!

She spent the better part of the night listening to the rain tapping on the window right above her head. She listened as it hit different places of her home - how it sounded on the roof, on the porch, on the ground, at the window. Soon the pipes from the roof were full and started draining. It sounded like a water fall nearby.

Rain is not a single sound but an orchestra full of melodies. It demands attention. You are suddenly not where you were before, floating slowly with the tunes. It makes one want to believe for a moment that we are all dreamers, waiting to completely get away from reality.

She opened the window a bit at some point in the night and let the breeze and some drops fall on her pillow, and her face. She could smell the fall - the wet soil, the wet trees, and the cold air.

She played some blues at 3 in the morning. It was her favorite song. She smiled. The rain stopped. The breeze picked up. The clouds roared. Then the rain began again. She heard the train howling in the distance.

She fell asleep as the morning light started to hit the rain drops. She woke up to a wet, cold pillow and the curtains flying everywhere.

Something wonderful happens to the whole place when it rains...
She woke up smiling.

he wants..

He wants to insist on taking her back to a simpler life...

A life where you turned the radio on in the morning and not the iPad, life where you brewed coffee and stuck around long enough to feel its aroma spread through the house, where you take a moment to feel the weight of the warm blanket on you, and appreciate the soft sheets and the hard pillows. Open the window and smell the trees - not the flowers but the trees. Name every creature, alive or inanimate, because they all deserve some identity.

He wants to make sure that she takes naps especially when her brain was in overdrive. 

He wants her  to spend no less than an hour at the bookstore even if she has no intention of buying anything. 

He wants to show her how to keep her face close to the cup and blow on the hot tea so she can feel the heavenly warmth on her face. 

They want to practice, and continue to practice patience - they should started small - waiting for the water to get warm, patiently watching the YouTube video to load, waiting for the coffee to cool down enough so it doesn't burn the tongue, slowing down at the yellow light instead of speeding up, keeping the phone away for a few minutes and laying down to stare at the ceiling. 

He wants to insist on "giving" - be it to her, to a friend, or to someone in need. 'coz he needs to be a better person to make her happier! and to make the lives simpler!

He wants to show her the joys of being sung a lullaby as she drifts off to sleep, and the importance of sleeping - to shut it out, to let it go, to allow your body to be at peace even if only for half an hour.

He wants her to control her anger, to let someone else win for a change. 

Over the years, he wants her realize that everyone is a flawed person. 

The realization should not make anyone sad or angry. It makes us humble. 

He wants her to realize that people make mistakes - that she has made mistakes, even he has made blunders and the world hasn't come to an end. 

The world doesn't come to an end for anyone. He wants succeed in making her a better person, a simpler person, a happier person, and make her life full of nice things!

He wants their life uncluttered by things - mind free - all the junk is cleaned out. He wants them to live in moment that live out the things they buy and the things they get worked up about. He wants to make her feel like a little girl learning it all over again. 

and ultimately he wants her to know she has so much space and so much peace inside her..

wait..

Moonlight becomes you..
I'm thrilled at the sight..
And we could get so romantic tonight..
You're all dressed up to go dreaming.

Sinatra sang in her ears as she sat on one of the benches in a park nearby.. She has yet to find her favorite bench. But she is working on it. (But she has been telling herself that for years now). Ideally she won't be sitting here alone. She would be sharing this beautiful view of the water and the even more beautiful city beyond the water with him. She carries a splitter in her purse nowadays - that little piece of wire that lets you connect two different headphone sets to the same outlet. She carries it around in case she ever gets to reenact a scene from Begin Again. She probably won't.

She has been carrying a sickness in her heart for so many years. Every now and then she realizes that and she wants to cry. But no tears come out. It's just sort of a sick sadness. Sad sickness. This life can't be so short. These nights can't be so long.

Perhaps some day she will put her act together and find a favorite bench, and walk long enough with him to call it an actual walk. For now, its just Mr. Sinatra and her - as we have been for many years.

What a night to go dreaming.

This is a work of fiction.

Friday Nothings

I walked in the apartment at 1:24pm on a Friday. I didn't remember the last time I saw my apartment with the sunlight on a weekday. But not that Friday. That Friday was a start of a vacation. I had absolutely nothing to do for the next three days. I could finally just sit there and read a book that I had been meaning to for so long, or drink lots of coffee or spend all my days at a bookstore or go get lost somewhere in the mountains, or I could have just continued to lie on the couch and do absolutely nothing.

Isn't that nice? To have absolutely nothing to do for a little while? It is a rare blessing in the kind of life I lead and perhaps you do too. I was quite happy. But only for that Friday. That half a day of beautiful nothingness. The rest of the time, one thing or another came up as it always does. So many errands needed to be run, bills needed to be paid, people needed to be seen, family needed help, and before I knew it I was sucked back into everything else, and that empty space was filled again with all sorts of tasks, except anything meaningful.

I wonder if we ever really get to do what we really want to do in life. When does happiness last for more than half a day. When, if ever, do we truly get to live..

Eclipsed

It's been four years since he last spoke to her. Four years.
That's how long it takes to graduate from college.
That's how long it takes for February 29 to come back around, and that's how long it takes for us to experience a total solar eclipse.

He'd like to think that it has been four years because they have just lost touch, like it happens when people grow old, move away and become busy with their careers. He'd like to think that she has moved far away, to a sunny state, for a job or may be even a Masters. He'd like to think that she is so terribly busy with the long hours and the beaches and the hikes she loved so much that she has no time to pick up the phone and call him. He'd like to think that she is really happy. That she has found a man who adores her, she has already moved in with him in an artist's studio apartment with white brick walls, and spectacular views of the city. He'd like to think that she has made new friends, and she goes out every weekend, gets drunk and then spends the Sundays hungover, so obviously she's been unable to call him over the weekends.

He'd even like to think that she is really angry with him. Perhaps over a silly little thing he did back in the day. Or perhaps because he really hurt her. Because he is an awful, terrible human being whom she completely despises. He'd like to think that she refuses to speak to him again. He can live with that.

He'd like to think that she is not dead. She is pissed off, busy, far away, happy, angry, moved-on, does-not-care-for-me-anymore, but not dead.

In the memory of adorable angel (1986-2006)
- scribed on 11th July 2010

Love time!

While writing this I already have hit the sack but feeling insomniac.
Just a few thoughts about the Valentine's Day..

The last time I checked, this was supposed to be a day to celebrate love. Not a day that would make us feel lonely, and sad, and sometimes just desperate. We all feel lost sometimes but it almost seems like this day is now designed to make us feel more lost. If romantic love has entered your life, that's wonderful. Try to take out some time today and acknowledge it. If love has not swept you off your feet yet, it will come to you when it is ready. You can't find love, love will have to find you, and it will. Your only job is to make sure you let it in when it does find you. Its when you are not expecting it that it will hit you hardest — and isn't that what makes life so tragically wonderful?

Until then, trust that the universe knows what it is doing and focus on making yourself better for when love does come knocking at your door or bumping into you around the corner of a coffee shop. You must learn to be patient.

Just remember today that you are not alone, unless you choose to be, and deep down inside you, you already know that.

Sound Sleep...

Everyone of us has an idea about how our life partner should be.. but its not easy to find right person at the right time. Its not actually about right or wrong.. they are just relative phenomena. Let's say.. its all about finding a perfect match!

He was the most unlikely of companions. She didn't think she would have anything in common with someone who loves to be with himself. She didn't think that she would like a thick beard on a man's face either. It hides the face and she always liked looking. Neither did she want too tall. But there he was. Five feet eleven and supporting a thick french beard, not to mention loved being with himself.

She'd hoped that it would happen. That they would meet again. That she'd finally be able to have all the conversations with him that she only had in her mind. She had imagined the meeting a few different ways. Perhaps she'll be visibly excited, smiling, beaming with joy, shy, quiet, hesitating to make eye contact. None of that mattered now that he was here. Sitting right next to her on that beige sofa in his living room. He was looking at her quietly.

Suddenly, she felt sleepy. Of all the scenarios she had played out in her head for this moment, feeling sleepy was not one of them. She tried not to yawn. She leaned towards him, as if she was about to kiss him. But she didn't. She leaned further into him so that he had to lean back and lie down - she on top of him. When she put her head on his chest, she felt a familiar scent, but she couldn't make much of it. She was too sleepy for that. She closed her eyes while her fingers played with his fingers.

The way she slept, with her face softened and arms wrapped around his shoulders, was beautiful. She hadn't slept like that in a long time.

Idea of love!

We have preconceived notions of a person we think we'll love.

If someone would have painted a picture of him to her before she met him, it probably wouldn't have been too appealing to her. Not because he was lacking something, it's just that he didn't fit her profile at the time. He didn't fit her idea of a person she would ever love.

For so many years, she lived with the idea of a man - not really a man. She liked how it made her feel. It made her feel content and comforted - that idea of his. It was when she was at her best and he was his. He never really lived with him, she lived with all the thoughts she created in her head about him. All the time she had been seeing him, it was really the idea of his that she wanted to see. She didn't really love him, she loved what she imagined he was, what he was supposed to be. and suddenly she thought, did she love him?!
She loved him so much. Now, it isn't him she is letting go, it is that idea of him in her head, and that's what pains her.
The idea of him that she nurtured, and loved, and cherished is what she has to let go.

It's so terrifying but we all have to recognize at some point that we don't truly love anyone until we let go of the idea of what we are supposed to love - to let go of the person that exist only in our heads. Loving real human beings is hard, but that's the only love that lasts..

His Confession

It seems like my words have just been reduced to one woman. When I write to her my heart turns into oceans and my words to shores. All the ocean knows is to come back to the shore, with no two waves alike. I can describe her almost perfectly.. from the spontaneous energy in her kajal-eyes to her beautiful fingers, and to that faint scar on her forehead. She talks of some great people and madness. She smells of euphoria and happiness. Her eyes look of intellect and soulful desire. She listens to my life. She makes me long to lie with her. And when she looks at the low moon in the winter sky surrounded by the mountains of forever -my words just can't stop spinning. Every time this moon shines, it witnesses the overwhelming emotion in my heart, and perhaps it nods at my determination to hold her tighter than time.

I want to write something heart-wrenching beautiful. I want to write something that would crawl under the readers' skin and reduce their souls to shreds. I want to write with the longing that we dare not talk about, the suffering that we carefully tuck away between layers and layers of darkness and secrets. I want my words to dance on their wildest imagination; crack their hearts open so that new light can shine through. But I am just useless.

Lately, I write to find that moment - the moment that led to me this madness.

-omi

Madness...

Writing after a long time guys!!
Hope you like it!

She was desperate to find something, anything that would soothe her ache. She wanted to not feel the craziness of her heart. She wanted to forget and not want the things she couldn't have. She wanted to exchange her burned, scarred heart with a brand new one, and she was desperately hunting for the clean heart, for a fresh start.

When she met him, she knew. She knew it was the purest heart she could find, and she had to have it. She was so desperate to clean herself that she did not care if she dirtied him in the process. So the first opportunity she got, she pounced. She dug her nails in his skin, and ripped his chest out. And there it was, the most beautiful thing in the world, and she was about to have it. She was about to rid herself of all her crazy, and all the her madness. It was wonderful.

And yet, no matter what she did, she couldn't take it. He was smarter than she thought, he was better than she thought. She wanted a fix, and he wouldn't allow it. He actually loved her. It was almost cruel.

All she ever wanted was a man who would soothe her madness. That was the only way she knew. But he only burned it more, made her crazier. He was right: the cure was not to fix the crazy but to accept it. She wanted to forget. He made it okay for her to remember

Wish you a very Happy New Year!! God bless!

-omi