Friday, February 26, 2016

The unnamed disease


South Calcutta Cemetry
South Park Street Cemetery

Some things in life should be better left unattainable. There is a certain charm in the chase. When you chase skies, you never reach any closer, yet they lure you with their incessant mirage. There is a thirst that you are addicted to and no amount of elixir can save you from dying of it. If I had gone to my elders with this condition, they would pronounce it to be a fatal disease. The one that you invite to satiate the luxury of a curious mind but it grips you in the trance. When we talk of trance then it is the most natural and blissful state. Even when we slowly wither away leaving nothing but crumbles behind. These crumbles are nothing but our existence in the world. The roles that we play when we are here, alive and breathing.



The attachments that we harbor are myth yet so necessary. We let ourselves mingle in a whirlpool of relationships. We are scared and let our lives be subjected to the fear. Virginia Woolf once said,

"The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages."

We live in the eyes of people, we live in their perceptions, their thoughts. We are running in someone else's dream. We are mere fragments of  their unconscious and may as well die as they wake up. When they wake up these fragments are gone and they are alone. So, are we, our views of others is not a part of others. They are fragments in our mind. Once we wake up, there is a realization that we are the only reality in our lives and everything else will vanish in thin air. So, from there starts a state of trance, that makes us reach places unexplored by the soul. Once we break away from this illusion, once we wake up from the dream, we see the life in a different light.

The feeling of being bound is the phase when we are on the way of waking up.The faces in our dreams that we had known and loved for long become the one we loath. A time comes when we become indifferent but still wonder the reason behind it. There comes a realization slowly and in a bone chilling way that we were never made for the life we are leading. It is like we are stuck in a nightmare and want to wake up. Either we wake up or lose our souls trying it. Death, here is just a transitory phase between an illusion to another. It is the same event when you wake up in the middle of  your sleep and dream and then fall back into another round of sleep.
(I am sorry if it does not make much sense as it is a truly personal piece)
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