“I will be there in 10 minutes, just crossed my office”; She said. ” Ex-office”; I corrected her, She was on her way to the Dargah, I was already there waiting on her. We had decided that we would be going to the Majhar before She left the city, I wanted the peer baba to ward off the ill spirits and bless her, bless her so that She be patient and doesn’t end up getting into silly arguments, her fiery temper had her often getting into silly arguments with cab drivers and rickshaw pullers. With her, now going to a new place one could never be sure as to how an argument might end up, I was scared to be honest.

Tussles and arguments with me were fine, I found it cute. But, She was leaving the comfort and security of her home, I wanted her to keep safe, to stay sane. She had often expressed her wish to visit the Dargah, I couldn’t make it then, with her now all set to leave, I thought it was about time I accompanied here.

She prayed for a good ten minutes, her lips sealed in prayer and the scarf over her head, She looked lost as if She were asking for the time to freeze, I on the other hand was lost in her, She was my prayer perhaps. Being, the restless soul that I am, I ended up tapping on her shoulder; reminding her that I was running late for office. The stern look that She gave still makes me break out in a smile, those big round eyes of hers rebuking me in silence, if it were on the road I am sure She would have given me an earful.

She had brought roses and a couple of packets of sugar lumps as offerings, She also lighted a packet of incense sticks as She bowed her head in prayer again, meanwhile; I was busy stealing glances of her. To each his own: My prayers right by my side; Pray She be good, pray there be no evil eye upon her.

The peer baba then blessed her as he said some prayers and blew air on her head, I prayed may the prayers work, may the Good Lord bless her with a calm mind. Her chaos has been a gift for me, her tantrums and mood swings were perks of being blessed with her company; I can trade all my peace for all of it to rain down upon me, however fiery; I wouldn’t mind burning myself allover again.

It was for the first time that we had met so early in the morning, and waking up to go and feel such calm alongside her company was an entirely new experience. She looked sorted in her mind, although She couldn’t stop laughing at the fact that I had brought her to the Dargah to ensure the evil spirits were ward off, her temper was the only spirit here. It could burn down anything, it burnt her at times too. I tried hard not to give away, I did laugh later, with her I had to be serious. “Yes, you have to stay calm and not get into arguments and fights”; I said, She promised She wouldn’t.

And, there has been this calm ever since; maybe once She did blast me for something that was entirely my doing, otherwise the prayers at the Majhar have worked.

My prayers still have her in them: May She be good, may She keep sane, may there be no evil eye upon her.

A place I called home is now making me feel homeless, a sense of not belonging to this place hadn’t been a case before, a place which taught to love, to celebrate and even to mourn seems to have lost it’s charm. Sitting at the cafeteria, where we would often sit and indulge in conversations on books, life and write ups, there’s this undercurrent that’s running. I gotta hold it up, not make it visible on my face. It’s terrifying to be in the midst of known faces and still miss that one person you are longing for, who made this place exude good and positive vibes, the one who would make the ambience feel calm with her presence.

I have always been conscious of my surroundings, so much so that I would get restless, thoughts running berserk in my mind and a reckless overdrive would get the better off me, she would then hold my hands; look me in the eye and calm me down. With her now missing, I am feeling the struggle to hold up as the cool breeze brushes past me, as if announcing She’s here, no She’s not, I got to hold up, have to jot down my thoughts. Never had I imagined that I would one day sit here, all by myself and sip a black coffee, write about her and be lost in her.

Cigarette after cigarette, and as the smoke escapes I can smell the fragrance of her Zara perfume, as if She were here. And, as the cafe lights up, the brightest source that bathed it’s vicinity with her spark is missing, I ask the barista for the cheque and there’s no one today asking me not to pay, no one to argue with and no one to ask me if we can head into the bar for a beer. A sudden chill takes over as my voice chokes, I light another cigarette, no one to share it with either.

I am at loss, loss of words, thoughtless to an extent but then you can’t love without the risk of loss, I didn’t either. I cross the road, the walk to the other side where I would often stand to wave her a bye hadn’t ever felt this long, I got to drag my guts to take me along, I stand, wait and look up as if praying to the heavens to rain her down upon me and it does, tears in my eyes as if manifesting her presence within me, I can’t afford to let these tears drop, I can’t wash her memories over with salt water, I have to hold on, hold on to whatever remains, the memories, the places and the moments which made life worth living. I am existing now, surviving because I know I have to hold her up within me, the cage that so far held my soul has parted with it, all that remains of this walking and living corpse is now lost in gathering the bits and pieces of her, tracing her within me.

The walk back to my place has been a long one, even longer has been the time that I spent at the cafeteria, alone by myself, sipping three cups of coffee, and the taste hadn’t been this bitter.

P.S: The black forest pastry didn’t taste sweet either.

Hello my friend we meet again
It’s been a while, where should we begin
Feels like forever
Within my heart are memories
Of perfect love that you gave to me
Oh, I remember..

And, She was all of it: my friend, my closest friend and my escape route to freedom, She set me free from everything that had chained my soul. As, I now listen to the song it’s all coming back, no not a mirage, not an illusion. Oh! How quickly life can turn around!!
But, life isn’t anything set in stone, her memories however are, etched deep within me, ingrained in my mind, and there’s nothing I would possibly do to change a bit of it.

It is strange as to how everything that I grew up reading and listening to now finds it’s meaning in her, as if all of it had conspired for me to meet her, to have known her and to have been blessed by her presence, her absence too isn’t a bane; it’s keeping her glued me, keeping me sane and it is aiding me in carrying on with whatever I am left with: a treasure within me, She be all of it.

Life was but an obligation, to love wasn’t and it will never be; all things good and everything bright now carries her shade. The dark clouds, the rain and the rainbow; all making her up, manifesting her presence, all that I now see; all around me carries her, keeps me reminding of her. The smile I let out, the tears I often shed and the prayers which departs my lips have her in them, reaches out to her and comes back to me.

She was a need, more than an ordinary want; but hey! Aren’t the two distinct ??
A confusion yet again, but then clarity awaited in the wings too. There’s this rigid dichotomy between a need and a want. She on the borderline of it.

“You don’t always end up having the life you feel you deserve, it was your want, the one within you is your need. Keep it safe, and keep writing. It’ll keep you afloat.”; read a comment. It’s good to have people who read and relate to your blog, take time out to understand the context and comment. It was one such comment, something which hit me, I don’t know the person who left the comment, the only thing I know is that she has been following my blog for sometime now. While, it was not something very deep, yet it was significant in it’s own way.

Want and need; it mentioned. And, doesn’t everything in life boil down to just this? Our never ending wants, at times the greed of it overshadowing what we perhaps need in real. My life hasn’t been extraordinary, it hasn’t been devoid of ups and downs, while, all the while I would sit back and shed a tear or two thinking of what I had gained and lost out on, I didn’t seem to understand the basic fact that I’d rather be happy if I were to think of needs and not focus upon my wants.

To want something would deprive me of the joy of having something when I would have it, I might give up on it too; the need however stays; it’s constant and continuous. Like hunger and to satisfy it is a human need, to crave for donuts is a want; it might end up upsetting my tummy too. Enough understood, enough reasoning in the head to calm the heart and focus upon whatever I am left with: be it the broken pieces of my dreams or my blood soaked heart that still beats, the beating is a need, and it’ll keep ticking, for I will meet my friend again, at some crossroad of life and sing to her:

Within my heart are memories
Of perfect love that you gave to me
Oh, I remember..

My need and my want assimilating in her.

P.S: Opening lines from the song, ‘My Sacrifice’ by Creed.

“Count your blessings;
Name them one by one.
Count your blessings;
See what God hath done”

A song reminiscent of my school days, we would line up during the school assembly and often sing it aloud. With no sense of tune then, all that mattered was to finish the prayers and run back to the class. I didn’t really know what blessings meant then, let alone counting them. Perhaps, everything that we learn in school ends up making sense at some point in time during the course of our lives. I for myself, didn’t realise it until I was a quarter of a century old, the right age maybe to be able to realise what blessings actually were, when life hits the pause button and you stoop over to pick up the fallen bits of it, it is then; maybe a realisation dawns in.

At 30, all that I am now doing is still bending over and accumulating the fallen pieces from the jigsaw of what then seemed to be a near perfect tale in the making. Alas! Now, I see; what I hath done.

All my blessings aside, this is now a curse I got to deal with for the rest of life, maybe even longer; certain things continue afterlife too. Law of karma, isn’t it?? But then, bending over to recollect all that I lost in the midst of shaping that near perfect tale had been a near perfect tale in itself, that was a blessing too; in disguise maybe. The stress my soul feels now, the strain upon my spirit isn’t just ordinary, it’s my emancipation.

The teen who would sing the hymn and rush back to his class now sees the greater meaning attached to it, the significance of all that ‘He’ hath done, the purpose though remains insignificant as it were wasted, all that: I hath done !!

The song’s playing again in the background, all of it now making sense, all the blessings bestowed upon me, all of it making me see through the hazy prism of life: the load upon my soul does feel light. I look above, the sky is hazy too: a subtle hints from the heavens above; that’s life perhaps, shades of grey. Not black, yet not totally white too. Enough of me looking up, let me now stoop over and get going, fallen pieces all over.

Done – Undone, any of it can’t be redone; all that is now left is for me to name by blessings. Alas! I remember just one.
While the blessings keep counting themselves, I stoop over to gather the pieces of the tale that seemed so very perfect. Imperfect – Perfect, all assimilating in one, the blessings and the curse?? All but one. See, what God hath done.

“So amid the conflict, whether great or small,
Do not be discouraged; God is over all.
Count your many blessings; angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.”

(Starting and ending lines from the song: Count your blessings, by Johnson Oatman Jr)

P.S: No sight of the angel though, the sky’s hazy.

I found light; I had in fact, the length of the tunnel didn’t seem like a bother then, the mind that had given up, the soul that had grown tired, then; had started sowing seeds of renewal, the mind was rejuvenating and there seemed a purpose at the end of it. Mirage it was, or was it not? It’s hard to figure out, as I set out again, tired and weary, for travelling without anything in mind is better than not having travelled at all. A calling beckons, a ray of hope perhaps, it’s all in the mind they say, as I see a silver lining. This too shall pass, this won’t forever be. Who cares? For I hadn’t, I never have.

At crossroads again, a fall; yet another one but not as bad as I would have liked it to be, that’s another issue to add on to the misery that so far seemed nonexistent. The existence of someone the heart pines for, but that’s okay. Life goes on, doesn’t it? Yes, it does, but the space remains vacant, in the heart and in between those fingers which never got to hold on to something. The mess lying scattered all around, not just a mess, the remains of a saga deprived of an end; a meaningful one. But, that’s what I wanted it to be, a beautiful thing unfolding into nothing and now that nothingness is beautiful too. Holding on to it will be a task for sure, I will see it to; until the end though.

Reading into too much and reading too much has been something I was plagued by always, over thinking has been something intrinsic and co-relating life events with something fictional as found in books has been a trait. So, this was bound to be; no infatuation, no law of attraction held good as I fell for something that seemed as good as the stuff found in books. As if, Dickens had plotted for the stars to cross, ‘Estella’ was in sight and Pip didn’t mind giving it all away. But, life is real; life is earnest, serious business it is and it has just begun.

I have been a sucker for tragedies, no matter how happy the endings are, something tragic is always camouflaged and passed on as just another occurring, and that’s worth it all in the end. But, no; there’s something about an ending that all good endings have: they end, not a tragedy though, it manifests into something more beautiful, and something tragic can be a source of an unending zeal to carry on. The zeal to hang on, the zeal to live on and the zeal to long for. Romancing this longing within is a bliss, not bound by selfish desires or worldly virtues of give and take.

The laws of the physical world don’t hold any good, as metaphysics takes over; time, space and distance, formless selves connected without being connected at all. The magic of holding on and letting go, coupled with a sweet little pang does keep things alive, like some sedation that kicks in to assure that there’s a calm in the chaos. Between having and not having someone, the mind chooses the middle path as the heart concedes too: “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

Life goes on, and so does longing, longing doesn’t require to be mutual or reciprocated at all, rather it aids in sharpening the desire to hold on. To hold on to the spark that lit the fire in the first place; and warmed the soul that had turned cold. To give it all up like Pip sans “Great Expectations”, for there remains the bottom-line: Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.

** Ending lines from Great Expectations by Charles Dickens – Chapter 29

And, what better way for the soul to seek refuge than to surrender to the Almighty, to be at the place where I had always found myself, to seek and to find and to let go of myself. And,as I stand face to face with myself allover again, this is a revelation, His revelation to me and of me.
“Seek and you shall find”; they said, well I seek for myself, just myself. I seek nothing but a sight, a light to lead me again, the same old revelation and the same old light. And, I realise; it’s in me; all within me, I look above, at the skies and, there’s the Moon playing peekaboo, my source of light.
The calm and the chaos, all of it now merging and converging into one, into Him and onto me,I shall hold onto it, hold onto the light.
My remorse,My penance and He my guiding light…

या निज़ामुद्दीन औलिया,
या निज़ामुद्दीन सलक़ा II

It’s that time of the year again: the rains are here and so are the memories flooding the gates of my mind, drowning me in them as I try hard to stay afloat clutching on to the ropes of reality, but then taking a dive can be an escape too; an escape route from the nonsense that I am surrounded by.

There isn’t a fantasy attached to my notion of getting lost in what I can presumably think of, there remains a tinge of sour grapes though. Ahh! That’s what ifs and buts basically do, they open a box filled with certain questions which have just too many answers to choose from, I know the right, but there are too many grey areas with ticks encircling them. The grey matter can rarely comprehend grey zones, the whites though reflect just one thing: a face, a vision and just one darn person. Too many ticks, too many answers and just too many thoughts. The result: a remorse, now a penance for life.

And, it is good, does feel good: that feeling when the heart burns and it rains outside, it adds another level to the ecstasy. The white and the grey merges into one, the black?? There never was one, for now there’s a shadow: a trail of light and there’s me. The remorse, the penance and the bliss: not another notion, not a fantasy.

Certain dates get etched on the walls of your conscience, and today is one such day; an ocassion like no other, a day to celebrate, to introspect and to be grateful about. The heavens had smiled upon me, and to this day I remain indebted to the luck I was then blessed with, for it did decide to smile upon me, it wasn’t just a roll of dice my destiny had played, perhaps it were a life changing experience that would go on to impact my life like nothing had ever done, it would assert itself, it would manifest itself and it would leave an indelible mark on my collective being.

The subconscious and the consciousness I had in me had for once seemed to merge, for once did I feel as if I were treading on the seventh heaven, admist the clouds; and for once did I seem to realise and appreciate all the darkness I had been through, I was led towards light, towards fulfillment and towards my own self, seldom does it happen that you come across your own being, I for one; for once had been face to face with the desires which were keeping me alive, and making me believe in the plan the universe had in store for me.

There are no accidents, you don’t meet someone by chance, there are no coincidences; the universe had then acted perfectly, played the perfect foil in setting my life in motion: thoughts, feelings and words which were long lost and had deserted me; now seemed to have come back to roost. This was no accident, this wasn’t by chance: just a glance, and I realised: the heavens were smiling upon me.

Sunshine had made it’s way, it had crept in through the seepages of my then debilitated spirit, it had awakened me: in walked someone who would go on to rewrite, reset, redo and retrace all the intrinsic issues I had never figured out; I had found my calling, something which to date remains the greatest among all the boons I have received.

I hadn’t been this moved by someone’s sight, I hadn’t experienced such ecstasy, as if it were a trance like state I was in, one vision and a light in sight, and the trail of it remains. It was a sight to behold, and I am still holding on to it, it flashes right infront of my mind’s eyes each time I take that trip on my memory’s boulevard, the thrill of it transports me to a different land altogether: bound and held by nothing, concious of nothing, yet focussed on that very source of light which had then washed over my soul.
I am still thankful, and the ecstasy of the moment I had then experienced captivates me to this very moment. They say; ‘a boon does away after the purpose is met’; the boon in question was itself a purpose, to live; to love and to hold to whatever remained of it; to seek and to follow; to think, to write and to treasure the treasure I had unearthed.

This day, that year: this day, this year, and this day, every year; will be celebrated within my heart, I shall wake up to the blessing I had received, I shall bask in the light which had passed by me, and I will remember the person who made it all happen. ”The conspiracy of the galaxies”; they don’t just happen, there are no accidents.

“Loserpool, You’ll Never Win Anything, Next year will be your year”: a few of the ridicules I, as an ardent Liverpool supporter had gotten used to hearing, right from the day the passion for football ignited and to this day: the spark hasn’t diminished, the love for the ‘beautiful game’ has only grown deeper. And, this had come with a prolonged spell of my club not winning anything, well almost nothing significant for many years.

I can vividly remember myself as a 10 year old kid who was mesmerized by Michael Owen’s dribbling and pace, that solo effort against the mighty Argentines during the 1998 world cup, and that was the beginning of a love affair: with football, and with the club Owen, then represented. Although, he would later go onto break my heart by joining United, I have now gotten over my one-sided admiration I had for him. Scores settled!! Well, within my heart!!

To have seen the ups and downs the club has been through, from the insignificant treble we won in 2001, to the ‘Gerrard’ inspired Champions League glory of 2005, I have seen many a battle, witnessed them on television and felt the pain and the angst that every dropped point brought along. To have bottled up the league in 2008-09, and the now infamous ‘Slip’ of 2014: I had wept myself to sleep, this was no ordinary love, and this was no ordinary saga of hope, faith and resilience either.

The last season did hurt when we lost out on the league by a solitary point, but then the Champions League victory had neutralized all the pain I had carried, the ridiculing of my mates who supported other ‘Fancier’ clubs didn’t stop though. This is what football does to you, it gives you hope and for me it has been a source of strength, an antidepressant. I knew to myself that the club and it’s history mattered to me, the pride that came along with being the most successful English club in Europe was unmatched and with it came the belief that someday we’d be the Champions of English football too.

This season has been a fairy-tale, with the pandemic creating pandemonium, football and Liverpool FC remained my only source of hope and happiness, the team played has like a dream, the pressing and the counterattacks, the ball recovery and the defending had never been this perfect. But, I would still not utter it to anyone that we would win, for I knew that my heart had made similar assumptions before, but the mind kept a track on the points table: week in and week out, we were inching closer and now as I write this piece, we are champions, The English Champions of 2020. This has been a long wait, a long, long wait.

No matter how hard life has been this year, no matter how hard it’ll continue to be, there’s this silver lining amidst the dark clouds, a red lining rather, the club I have loved since I was 10. This season though was different, we were on course, on a mission and I hadn’t felt this secure about anything in life – not about my career, my relationships or life even, but I knew deep within: the trophy was beckoning us, and there it is; We are the Champions!!

I wouldn’t mind the name calling and the ridicules anymore, I wouldn’t mind bottling away trophies either, the journey in itself has been a ‘Remontada’. They meant it right, when they said; “We are Liverpool: This means more.” This does mean a helluva lot more.

Love. Life. Liverpool FC.

YNWA !!

 

“Some partnerships are made in the Heavens”, right? Partially, maybe. Some are made over humor and Old Monk. And, Guns N Roses and a bit of AC/DC. I had always grown up assuming that I could be friends with people who were of my age, my generation and old school.

He was none of it, just none of it. A mechanical engineer, not your quintessential Gujarati boy, could dance to David Guetta and Falguni Pathak with equal enthusiasm, and he could roast people too. His sense of humor wasn’t forced, he could carry it anywhere. A good 3-4 years younger to me, but assumed himself to be a 50 year old in the head. I can’t blame him, most Gujaratis are the same. Self-righteous!!

I met him when I was going through my own ordeals, he happened to be a comic then and also the emcee, last seen he was just an emcee; couldn’t write much: you know how excel sheets suck life out of you, but his excuse wasn’t ordinary, he never had time. He was gracious enough to host me in his room during a visit to a town where he was working then, we bonded over Old Monk and mutual mistrust for bengali women, funny it is as I now think of it, but alcohol does help in gluing people. A renewed strength for the bond that we then made awaited as he shifted to Guwahati, now jobless. Another connection perhaps, joblessness binds people too. While, I had a credit card and little or no cash, he had fuel in his bike, we knew we could go about our business of doing comedy for free and networking with people who we thought would help us in getting venues; more often than not the networking did help the ones who networked with us, we would get burgers and black coffee for free, a cigarette could be shared. “Counter chalega bhai”; he would say, deep within we both knew saving ten rupees meant we could spend it on another cigarette after an hour. The relations you make when you are struggling in life often turn out to be something for a lifetime. In him I found a brother I never had, ‘Lakshman to my Ram’, but then we were savagely human.

Luck did smile upon us at the same time, both having finally landed jobs by September ‘2017; almost a year and a half had passed away since I had happened to meet him, the countless hours and days we had spent making jokes, organizing open mics and running from cafes to pubs to arrange for venues could now be a backup, a passion we could follow. We would often leave from our respective offices together and head towards a place where I would force him to, just for a cup of tea. The struggle did pay off as well, but then certain things are memories you make for a lifetime.

We could now afford more than an occasional drink, the cigarette would still be shared but we could do away with asking for a puff. Old Monk, still our favorite and with AC/DC playing in the background, we knew we could bring any house down, me with my nonsense and he with his oversized bum hitting the dance floor.

But then, all good things carry knots and have nots, I hadn’t seen this coming though. Our ‘holier than thou’ attitude towards life can afflict implications we aren’t aware of, I was naïve maybe and he too mature for his age. He was a good thing in a big package, I knew I could crack jokes on him and he had the same liberty, I wish it had stayed that way; perhaps certain friendships deserve no serious chatter, and that is just but a wish. I wish him good, I wish him well and I pray he carries on with whatever remains of the collective we had, we built and dreamt of.

We were savagely human, weren’t we??

P.S: I wish him well, I wish I were wise. He wanted it too.