Thursday, 16 September 2010

Potpourri & Blanched Noise

You see the past in your minds eye. You see 'you' - a constant you who has always been the same in some ways yet a whole another person in some others. One perhaps, who refuses to grow up, and an assortment of others who have grown a lot through their many experiences; some good, some bad, some tragic, some magic... Every little moment, large or tiny in its reality, left a mark on your person that is visible to some who look deep while at the same time entirely non existent to those who simply do not care. There is much noise all around our being, all through the yesterdays on to today; recent or aged. This noise has become tepid with time, blanched in its current state as if all that is transpiring, is being so on a parallel existence that is untouched by your real physical self of the very now. Perhaps to understand this, one would need to exist in such ''a limbo'' -or- ''versatile limbos'' to actually fathom a state thus. A black and white like basic reel, with or without static in the background, plays the events out at random or tandem. The goods and bads in their surreal existence, are like an essence that tickles the senses in accordance to their nature; pleasant to all that exists in between it and downright unbearable. When beaded together to form a chain of memories preserved in our core, a potpourri of -some snippets-some sequels- get stored for later retrieval, as and when life requires it of us. In all entirety, we are made up of this potpourri and blanched noise, when we look at the reflection of who we are, as we exist today. When I see me -and I mean really look at the old plus new me- from the outside and inside, I see a shell that exists to please others in how primped it is, or a warm body that exists to live. The vacant parts that come across as unpretty, held within them a more loving heart (I feel now) when I compare them to the relatively more pleasing to the eyes form that is so perceived (more often so now), I find them sort of aching, wanting and hollow on the inside (tired even). Makes me wonder what really it is that makes ''some'' see the same picture of a person (me?) as pretty, all its other myriads, or otherwise.

Some see pretty
Some see Blah
Some see witty
Some others Booh and Baah


It all matters little when you exist in this pseudo happy state of potpourri and blanched noise.

6 comments:

Chaggo said...

That stands true for a lot of us, Dear One! :(

Hayaah said...

Wow... u popped in... I <3's <3's that you came... I find it interesting that you think it stands true for you in parts true... Id like to tap into your reasons thought, to see how you interpreted this... I was in a lot of different places when these words came to me...

Later I guess, I dig into your gray matter for more details :)
xxx

Sanaa said...

And then a time comes, (if it hasn't already sometime in the past and you missed recognizing it) when this pseudo happiness turns to true happiness and STAYS PUT! and Inshallah it will Bdee <3

These internal conflicts of yours worry me, dear sister!

Hayaah said...

Aww... u little worry-er of mine - Dont you wonderful one! I be's just the fine's. If it werent for me words, Id have a need to worry, but as long as I can let em out - its all good!

xxx

Saibal Barman said...

It reminds me of a few unforgettable words of a great clergyman who not only taught me some academic subjects but patiently toiled for long to get incongruent paradigms in me abraded to some fineness towards seeing world honestly, differently and in more unbiased manner....just a simple string of words..."see I to I, and feel the difference of not seeing eye to eye"..
Since then I have slowly learnt to learn more from I and less from eye...I remain a learner..slower for I enjoy being in pleasure of learning myself..I don't want to get to the end gate (if even it's there!)...and your article comes as a sweetener to whole churning of this process.
At this age, when memories start fading out to keep open space for new events of life, newer pains to breathe within and fresh seeds of revelation to flourish, this article refreshes the pages where I could see the roots of the tree whom I borrowed the seeds long before...I accept it as my tribute to Rev. F Goreaux, the legendary mathematician. (Caution: Don't assume me to be anything near to mathematician)...
My regards,

Hayaah said...

Your last paragraph, dear sir, had me tear stricken! To pay my words and thoughts, such a HUGE compliment, is beyond humbling and I feel at a loss to express how it makes me feel... U really are too kind. WOW @ being made akin to such wonderful seeds... I hope I can bloom them into trees worthy of keeping such seeds alive!

I loved the simple philosophy... I hope it stays a long way forward with me...

Thank you, as always, for stopping by and sharing your wonderful words with me!

Best wishes...