Amongst a host of things that leave me baffled about relationships is the bitter urge to destroy an ex-lover; that is one emotion I will never understand. You have known each other in the most uncompromised way… You have shared with each other the most intimate of feelings… How can all that be forgotten in a flash? I understand the emotions of grief, disappointment, anxiety and pain; but the emotion of hatred… I will never understand. Why can’t you be happy that you were fortunate enough to experience something so ethereal? Why can’t it be left behind as a beautiful chapter in the book of your life? Why would you ever want to ruin something you loved so dearly? Why?
There is a mad intensity in the way I am reading these days. I always was a reader, but I have now become a manic reader. I want to know all about the authors, what they were going through when they wrote a particular book (particularly the ones that had unapologetically non-conforming protagonists) and more. From Rumi to Dostoyevsky, Proust to Kafka, Nietzsche to Haruki Murakami… I am going insane. There is so much to read (and so little time)! Words have become my fuel and I can’t survive without them. Amid all this, I bumped into this beautiful piece (a fusion of humour and truth) from the man I have loved since I heard him sing Husna on Coke Studio – ?#?PiyushMishra?, the born rebel. Watch it for yourself.
“Woh kaam bhala kya kaam hua jo maza nahi de whisky ka, wo ishq bhala kya ishq hua jisme na mauka siski ka.” ;)
“I have never seen you “happy drunk”. Why do you drink?” her friend questioned. She pondered over the question and responded with a teary-eyed smile. No words. If only it was that simple to quiet the stubborn tormenting voice in her head asking her the same question over and over again, she thought… Then she thought some more and tried to come up with an answer. Yes, she liked being liquored up every once in a while… maybe because it guaranteed bringing to the fore all the pain she managed to bottle up in her sober state… maybe because she enjoyed not being in control every once in while… maybe because she relished the pain that missing him brought her every once in while… maybe because her drunk self reveled in the knowledge that she still was madly in love with him despite the constant denial by her sane self… “Aah, too many maybes to deal with,” she told herself and blasted music to stop this chatter in her head. Indeed, there were too many maybes.
Driving in the rain.
Our song on the unsympathetic radio.
700 miles between us.
And I am expected to stay sane…
It scared her that insanity may go out of fashion one day. She was surrounded by mundane. Mundane made her cringe. It scared her, made her anxious. She craved madness. But honestly, I don’t think the world had what it took to embrace that kind insanity.
Despite everything, some things hadn’t changed; like the way he could still make her laugh on her worst days.