Sunday, August 19, 2012

"When your soul is gone out of your style!"


There is sunlight sneaking through the ajar windows, and the rays seems like they have bathed in pensiveness and  drank themselves a palm full of dreams. The afternoon silence has frowned at my negligence to its provoking heat and gross wilderness. The grass outside has started to grow as they like. Untamed. Unpruned. Wild. They have an air of being ‘gently ferocious’. I don’t know whether they would smile at my oxymoron if they hear it. They look so much themselves that there is happiness running through their blades by mild wind. And I tossed my head with them.

I looked up and saw the roaming birds
My heart leaped with my galloping thoughts
The flutters, the beats and the shivers
I hold my breath and closed my eyes
But there was still mutter in between my lips.

Sometimes I get freeze beside you in a bewilderment that emerges out of my inability to loosen up all the enmeshing voice inside me, that there is so much of pending musings that has to catch up and unleash to you. You told me that you liked me best when I read aloud poetry to you. And you always preferred Keats and his odes. You became his Nightingale, the Autumn, the Grecian urn and the Melancholy. But did you know that you were my prime melancholy? The sweetest and the inexorable melancholy I ever tasted. And you were like a wilted flower when there is "no poetry between us and when your soul is gone out of style". And then I would bring up some fanciful analogy for your flaccid face and cold eyes. You hated when I try to paraphrase my feelings to you. Paraphrasing for you was like besmirching the beauty and challenging the passion out of it. Passion. I envied you for it all the time. So much of passion whirling in your eyes. In your actions. In your aspirations. I feared it. Loved it. Awed it. And yes I thought of it even as your hamartia. Be proud of it since a fatal flaw out of passion is worth suffering. There is bravery and grandeur in it.

I have always imagined the switching of moments and people to mere memories. And there are some people whose shifting to existence as a memory is inconceivable. The reminiscences of certain people that can wrench my heart and rip my soul. The moments my love for them becomes so distinct as red on white. A kind of excruciating abstractness that these memories bring will circle themselves an existence of emotions that I cannot plainly touch or feel. May be that’s why I fail to sustain myself in any kind of virtual world. May be that’s why I always tilt sideways to a reality out there that can pull back my soaring reveries so that I taste life’s contradictions and contrasts altogether in a unfamiliarly familiar sphere.         





     

14 comments:

  1. Ahh. I could feel the despondency, the pain and the poignancy through your lines Nasnin. You never fail to strike a chord :-)

    www.stutidhyani.com

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    1. Thanks Stuti....And your comments always strike a chord too:) Regards:)

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  2. Nasnin, pardon my absence for so long
    Was not myself and had been out of style ;)
    So glad to read you again
    What a title my dear! and thanks for the link :)
    The gentle ferocious grass would give you a fiery smile indeed .. loved the feel this led me to...
    hugs my dear

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    1. Thanks Pygma....So so happy to hear from you:) And yes me too have been absent from blogosphere for a while! See you around:)*hugs*:)

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  3. Such great writing - lovely work!

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  4. Lovely writing Nasneen! So soulful!!

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    1. Thanks a lot Sir:) Most happy to hear from you:)

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  5. Wow. Girl, your writing has evolved brilliantly. You make me sigh.

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    1. Thanks Zeba....your words mean a lot to me:) Damn Happy:)

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  6. hi nasnin... belated happy eid... i could not find as much time for blogging as i would like... and i am sorry for being absent from your blog..infact from everybody blogs... Welcome back to me on your blog :P and do not tell anyone else because i am yet to visit their pages :P

    well... i wonder what would happen if we were ever able to convert people from imagination into reality and vice versa... but i think you didnt mean that here... what i got was saddness :(

    cheer up...

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    1. Hi Israr,

      I knew that you have been away from blogosphere:) So glad to have you back! My page was waiting for the devil:) And even more glad that the post has left you sad! It's meant for that:p Regards:)

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  7. 1st time here and after reading this brilliantly written post i am genuinely happy to be here....

    will look forward to read more at your space....keep them coming.



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  8. Thanks a lot:) Much delighted:) Keep visiting!

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