Digging into posts from the past. This is from early 2009.
A day of melancholy. Rather, a day of ‘wanting’ to stick to melancholy, while life spirals out beyond grasp. And the reigns that control its centripetal velocity are not in familiar realms.
Listening to Uravugal Thodarkadhai back to back. Again and again. ‘Ini ellaam sugame’ keeps ringing in my mind. And for some strange reason, I seem to need the assurance. Reassurance. I keep pressing the play-again button. Whether it really is ‘Ini Ellaam Sugame’, I don’t know. Don’t have a clue about it. Of course, the Goat born in the fag-end of December does not believe in fairy tale endings.
I’m moving away from the past with a pace that startles me. There are no sketches and route maps to future. I have no visions about future. And the present is spent in strange motley of emotions. Strangely, I am associating myself more with Vaanathi than with Poonkuzhali. A transition that strangely offers no qualms, no identity crises. Contention?
Kalyani or Kaikeyi?
All I need, is a premature short-term first installment of second childishness. And a weekend trip. An hour long foot massage with some Senchurutti or Neelambari playing on the iPod. N no. of laps in a pool, until I tire out completely, tire so much that it requires too much of an effort to think. All ye, grey cells, you find your way to the arms of Morpheus.
I’m least alarmed, but would this steadfast sanity drive me insane? Worth a thought. Clarity that glares back at me. Doesn’t intimidate me, though. I don’t refuse to take questions, it is just that it’s insane to expect an answer. Moving, moving... Light-years ahead of the previous fuel stop. I stopped keeping track of the map, nor do I care to look at the speedometer. Vedhanthamaa Siddhaanthamaa...
Whatever it is that I am taking, with reckless abandon, neither is it getting me on a high, nor is it making me sleep. And the glass gets more potent with every successive round. Yet, my fingers hold the stem steadier than before.
A palpable mirage?
A day of melancholy. Rather, a day of ‘wanting’ to stick to melancholy, while life spirals out beyond grasp. And the reigns that control its centripetal velocity are not in familiar realms.
Listening to Uravugal Thodarkadhai back to back. Again and again. ‘Ini ellaam sugame’ keeps ringing in my mind. And for some strange reason, I seem to need the assurance. Reassurance. I keep pressing the play-again button. Whether it really is ‘Ini Ellaam Sugame’, I don’t know. Don’t have a clue about it. Of course, the Goat born in the fag-end of December does not believe in fairy tale endings.
I’m moving away from the past with a pace that startles me. There are no sketches and route maps to future. I have no visions about future. And the present is spent in strange motley of emotions. Strangely, I am associating myself more with Vaanathi than with Poonkuzhali. A transition that strangely offers no qualms, no identity crises. Contention?
Kalyani or Kaikeyi?
All I need, is a premature short-term first installment of second childishness. And a weekend trip. An hour long foot massage with some Senchurutti or Neelambari playing on the iPod. N no. of laps in a pool, until I tire out completely, tire so much that it requires too much of an effort to think. All ye, grey cells, you find your way to the arms of Morpheus.
I’m least alarmed, but would this steadfast sanity drive me insane? Worth a thought. Clarity that glares back at me. Doesn’t intimidate me, though. I don’t refuse to take questions, it is just that it’s insane to expect an answer. Moving, moving... Light-years ahead of the previous fuel stop. I stopped keeping track of the map, nor do I care to look at the speedometer. Vedhanthamaa Siddhaanthamaa...
Whatever it is that I am taking, with reckless abandon, neither is it getting me on a high, nor is it making me sleep. And the glass gets more potent with every successive round. Yet, my fingers hold the stem steadier than before.
A palpable mirage?
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