Muffled Clarity

I'm a character in a story. I know all of us are and every character that I have read of, seen or been till date is in each one of us. But I'm going to settle with this awareness and yet say that my story is my favourite. I'm going to be hiding and not disclosing a lot to (through) my blog today. It's funny how I feel enriched with the thought of having menial and gigantic secrets in my life. Certain things which only I know about myself, certain things that you think you know but it's me and me alone who is in charge of the entire structure of that fact. I'm not saying that people around me don't know squat about me. I'd be underestimating them and overestimating my privateness to say that. But I'm my own person and there're more instances in my life where no one would know what line of thought I have chosen and made my own. I have grown to be my own person. It'd be unfair to not appreciate and acknowledge the presence of those who have known me, mentored me, told me, made me believe, given me strength, brought sane and smooth meaning to my existence. I know you're there and I know I'm there for you too. But this moment and the ones that have preceded this along with the ones that will succeed this for a while, is in absolute cohesiveness, mine and only mine. Don't take it away for me, don't tamper with it , don't interfere. Just be and let me be.

That said, I also know that it's not just about me, myself and (not) Irene. I need you to tickle me, to make me think, to justify my being, to make me aware, to exploit my affection, to tolerate me and make me tolerant, to be my breather, to organize my derangement, to help me come back to life, to tell me I'm sahi. To make me believe. Unfortunately, I'm not very sure who you are.

Ma has always told me that life is not only about fun and games. But I want to tell her that it's most essential to loosen up and constantly amuse yourself and be amused, because that's as transparent it can get. All that terrible seriousness and solid intensity can only make you more fragile.

I want to also be very honest and tell you that I'm preaching. But to myself. I've started to grow extremely fond of the times when I tell myself things that I want to hear. When I mould my intention and create my belief. It is in that very space that cavities and loopholes cease to exist. There's peace and complete agreement. This might not be the best thing to believe, but I'm trying it and I know there's really no harm.

In complete isolation of all that I have said (to myself) in the past couple of paragraphs, is my outright confession of the love for Hindi music. Amongst other things, I have begun to feel that it's the language , that I can call my own and that makes the music my own.

I've come to become more and more aware about how honestly is absolutely indispensable. But as I'm trying to be honest to myself and to you, I'm also telling a big lie.

I don't mean to sound gloomy or dull. I don't want to dress myself or my writing in sombre clothing because the TRUTH really is that I'm happy to be evolving. Even if it means debasing my old self, it is some kind of a necessary graduation.