i’m at a loss with words today.
although i can tell you in detail about my diwali or my sunday spent in the company of friends. and i can tell you about the weather, the light drizzle i soaked in yesterday with sun shining over the central park in connaught place. i can tell you about my desperate search for a rainbow then, as i’d read the science about the sun, the rain and a particular angle which forms them.
i can talk about this morning when i was late for no real reason at all. i can talk about this blank page which is not blank anymore, with little blue scribbles in blue ink and the pen that i hold in my hand writing all this. i can look deeply at the fingers holding this pen, the pores of these fingers and ‘the lines’ forming my varied destinies.
i’ve completed work, i’ve smiled at colleagues, i’ve co-operated with clients and heard whatever boss had to say. i’ve felt sun on my eyelashes and seen wind rustle the rusted leaves. i’ve heard ghalib and gulzar, lived lata and jagjit. i’ve been a poet, a philosopher, a writer, a child today, but however much i try, i can’t explain what i’m feeling.
i can tell, talk, hear, see, touch a lot of things, but somehow i’m not these, i almost am not present here.
no poem, no prose, no rhyme, but still everything, so much, but still nothing. just a feeling of calm and a silent joy within. just a deep desire to stop someone from boarding a bus somewhere in the sunday that was yesterday.
and i still have no words to say what i’m feeling today.
because a lover knows, says osho, here. and this, perhaps would be the answer dwaipayan is looking for.
Soul Steps II by Pam Ingalls; Image courtsey: corbis.com