Friday, July 30, 2010
Chronicles from Memory of An Unknown Driver!: When it rains in my town!
Chronicles from Memory of An Unknown Driver!: When it rains in my town!: "The rain of northeast has no metaphor when it comes to resonating through psyche. And when I waked up today morning I was greeted by incessa..."
When it rains in my town!
The rain of northeast has no metaphor when it comes to resonating through psyche. And when I waked up today morning I was greeted by incessant rain painting fuzziness in window glasses; sheets after sheets pouring with eternal ecstasy and just from within the room along the windows I feel the emergence of the oldest image in my mind. Wetness and green were not two favorite words in my dictionary. And they are the elements of the oldest image resting in my mind singing occasional orchestra of melancholy. People loves rain; many of them and they cherish every drop of its divine contact of wetness or the torrent it generates inside the planet of their mind.
However for Northeasterns, rain is often the metaphor of slippery road, flooded paddy fields, dense and wild greeneries and the fluxes of sturdy currents; rain is no freedom for them and serenity doesn’t receive the same despondent cry as it receives from the dusty streets, marble palaces, and cities breathing in the air where engines moves in cacophonic vibration. We the northeasterns grow up craving for longer days, shorter nights and company of sound.
I too wanted alive, awake, young sunny days, star-filled skies, and the sounds from independent sources of diverse religion, ambition arriving through varying distance of propagation. That’s the feeling that makes people build a city because we do sleep when it’s necessary but we want the place around us to remain awake, ever awake so as whenever we wake up we will find company. Thus we run foreign from the soul’s nativity and occasionally we want silence. Loneliness becomes solitude then.
Serenity, silence, solitude, wildness, natural panorama, calm fresh air, stable mind etc. are the words easy to capture from the mood of a mind grinded by hectic demands of life and ambitions having no confluence with the soul’s perception about experience within the mortal perimeter and we remain often hollowed with the visibility of life, world and want of company offers us. Life is what exists beyond the visibility. Life offers visibility for towards as generalization, individuality demands seeking the invisible. Mostly our curiosity ends within visible spectrum and the invisible infinite sphere conceals the source of happiness. Except the free-willed others don’t reach there and remains confused with life words. Change is their only solace and redemption from boredom.
It’s not coincidental or the fruit of getting old, but I loved the rain. The moment I wake up or the moments I was half-asleep and dreaming, I was in love with today’s rain. I wanted it to rain. I wanted it to slide incessantly along my windows and I want it tease the wipers of the drive. I wanted it to make me wet, and I wanted it to absorb me in and take me with its retreat towards the blissful sky. That’s does not make my limbs static nor hijacks my freedom. Freedom has different degrees of existence. My freedom is not within perpetual mechanical motion; it is with the timeless flights beyond the mortal realms of my immortal mind. Peace! Rain! And the Elements of nature in untouched fluctuations.
However for Northeasterns, rain is often the metaphor of slippery road, flooded paddy fields, dense and wild greeneries and the fluxes of sturdy currents; rain is no freedom for them and serenity doesn’t receive the same despondent cry as it receives from the dusty streets, marble palaces, and cities breathing in the air where engines moves in cacophonic vibration. We the northeasterns grow up craving for longer days, shorter nights and company of sound.
I too wanted alive, awake, young sunny days, star-filled skies, and the sounds from independent sources of diverse religion, ambition arriving through varying distance of propagation. That’s the feeling that makes people build a city because we do sleep when it’s necessary but we want the place around us to remain awake, ever awake so as whenever we wake up we will find company. Thus we run foreign from the soul’s nativity and occasionally we want silence. Loneliness becomes solitude then.
Serenity, silence, solitude, wildness, natural panorama, calm fresh air, stable mind etc. are the words easy to capture from the mood of a mind grinded by hectic demands of life and ambitions having no confluence with the soul’s perception about experience within the mortal perimeter and we remain often hollowed with the visibility of life, world and want of company offers us. Life is what exists beyond the visibility. Life offers visibility for towards as generalization, individuality demands seeking the invisible. Mostly our curiosity ends within visible spectrum and the invisible infinite sphere conceals the source of happiness. Except the free-willed others don’t reach there and remains confused with life words. Change is their only solace and redemption from boredom.
It’s not coincidental or the fruit of getting old, but I loved the rain. The moment I wake up or the moments I was half-asleep and dreaming, I was in love with today’s rain. I wanted it to rain. I wanted it to slide incessantly along my windows and I want it tease the wipers of the drive. I wanted it to make me wet, and I wanted it to absorb me in and take me with its retreat towards the blissful sky. That’s does not make my limbs static nor hijacks my freedom. Freedom has different degrees of existence. My freedom is not within perpetual mechanical motion; it is with the timeless flights beyond the mortal realms of my immortal mind. Peace! Rain! And the Elements of nature in untouched fluctuations.
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