Thursday, January 08, 2015

Chronicles of a Solitary Soul – The Lost Soul

It’s so surprising to see the similar state of being alone having varied connotations for different individuals – One who experience the pain in it calls it ‘Loneliness’ and the one who experience the solace terms it as ‘Solitude’. And for the very few who figures in the later, there is some inherent charm in those moments which makes them not only bearable but also gratifying. That is what the magic of the solitary world is all about. There is a parallel world inside which is devoid of any sophistications and baggage of the external world making it as pure as ever.

“...the natures of solitary people are apt to have more unmapped country in them than worldly folk imagine. They see and think and do things peculiar to themselves, and one may turn up buried treasure in them at any moment.” ~ Julian Hawthorne

We all constitute a minute part of the infinite cosmos around; perhaps a tiny speck, an inconsequential tinge amidst the colorful canvas that fills the outer world. But none of us are here without purpose…there is a light that chases us and there is a light that we chase through-out. And when these two lights converge, life gets its meaning. My thoughts and heart always find themselves wandering in this limitless cosmos (hence the blog’s name - Musings of a Wandering Heart) chasing one light or the other in that band of spectrum, contemplating after and while as to which light is mine and to which tinge I belong. There is so much that’s churning within creating endless ripples of thoughts which form one moment and disappear the other, leaving behind the sensation that remains for long.

This new section of the blog "Chronicles of a Solitary Soulis an attempt to assimilate those wandering thoughts & notions, nurturing them with the manure of words to let them blossom through into full bloom. More than that it is actually an attempt to discover and preserve those sentiments which do get lost like me in the chaos and pandemonium around.

The moment I step out of my house in the morning, all that I can see is the rushing of faces each in a bit to outsmart the other, to outshine the other. Everywhere there is a mad race with people running here and there to achieve something material. Out of the house onto the roads, there is constant honking of cars not having tiniest of the patience, to get that stretch of road where it can run free of traffic – not realizing that their constant blowing is silencing the chirping of cricket, the fluttering of the wind and symphony of the nature. Consequently, no one actually pays any heed to any of this phenomenon which deserve more than fair share of person’s attention. Or is it the other way around, the price of being impatient comes to those folks in form of deprivation from witnessing these miracles.

The purpose of their running is not to lead but to leave the other person behind. The world out is really fast paced with the common notion “If you stop, you trail”. Result, no one really has the time to halt and see the beauty, feel the serenity and experience the un-experienced. And the poor souls like me tend to feel lost in this jungle every now & then making me feel an alien out of this world (I still wonder as whether it’s the world which is running too fast or me who is running too slow).

The Lost Soul (Source: Google Image)

“And then the vicious circle begins – Begin the journey with the crowd, get lost in the jungle, introspect down the memory lane to search, find a bit of me in the memories kindled, receive nudge from my present, find myself again amidst the crowd, again begin the journey and again get lost in the jungle.”

And then I contemplate in retrospection, remembering those good old days when the pleasure would simply unfold itself in small little acts. Seeing birds flying in the sky used to fill the heart with much of abundance and soothe; running after them sometimes to chase, sometimes to better and sometimes just to fly them away, would culminate with the series of laughter. There I find a bit of myself in the echoes of that laughter which remains even long after the laugh has died.

Those brief breaks during the cricketing sessions and lying flat on the ground gazing at the light blue sky with cold sweat drenching through the body & the heart pounding furiously fast. That sudden moo from cows attracting my attention and the curiosity aroused while witnessing them ruminating calmly with peculiar movement of the mouth nodding its head sporadically as if enjoying sparing my thought. There again a bit of myself is traced in that curiosity that springs up in the heart and bear innocent smile on the face.

Those constant stare in the moon kissed sky wondering about the millions of the stars winking at me as if to stupefy me with their shine and glitter. And the search for the constellations and creating different shapes from the stars which appears like shining pennies scattered in a dark well – glittering and luring; and not to forget that feeling of victorious pride when some of the times that ‘special’ Pole Star gets spotted. There lies another portion of mine in those moments spent glancing up the sky and bringing bewilderment on the face.

Those shower in the rains in whatsoever season they pour and playing with the raindrops as they complete their long journey from the water filled clouds to the thirsty crust of the earth. And then jumping on the water cluttered on roads ‘chapaaaaaak’, the moment someone comes near it. . .and that puddle play on a rainy day. . . and that intoxicated aroma of wet soil, just after the first rain of the season. There again I find some bit of me in those tiny droplets and amidst that aroma which rinse the dirtiest of the mark on the soul. And the list is just endless with the pleasure being limitless.

The muse, then, takes me to those best-loved movies of mine, watching which would transpose me to the different world of dreams, the dreams some broken, some intact, some fresh, some forgotten and some half-asleep. The journey to the world of dreams is the most satisfying experience to anyone and when these have caressed and fostered with so much of passion since existence, this engulfs with a feeling of salvation. There are, then, those warmly preserved pieces of writings, the pages of which contain a portion of me embodying those unfulfilled aspirations and un-quenched desires in those loving characters and sequences which I keep on reading and re-reading. And each time these oblige me with the same sense of freshness and gratification as they did when I first acquainted with them. There I again find some more of me in that world of my dreams and thoughts devoid of any rules where my unfulfilled aspirations are met and where my un-quenched desires are allayed.

The beauty of the thoughts is such that the more solace you discover in them, the deeper and deeper they penetrate within you. That unbridled horse then takes you to all those silent memories which have been, knowingly or unknowingly, preserved carefully in that hidden corner of the heart. While the search for the self in the memory lane continue to entice me, the sudden nudge of realization pulls me back from those blissful thoughts to this crowd buzzing with all sort of activities…where I, again, gear myself for the next sprint I would undertake only to find myself standing (yet again) in the middle of the nowhere wondering yet again – where is my light, where is my heart, where are my thoughts…the vicious circle yet again plays the mischief.

~Shubh Life . . . Om Sai Ram

© 2015 Manish Purohit (Reserved)

Heartfelt thanks for visiting here. . . While the thoughts are woven with the strings of the words, what remains to be seen whether they does manage to form a bridge for you to cross and listen to the beating. And if it does, do drop in your beat in the comment box . . . it always feels great to hear from you :)

~ Linking back to Write Tribe

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