The Zahir

Mohabbat mein nahin hai farq jeene aur marne ka, usi ko dekhkar jeete hain, jis qafir pe dam nikle…

My mind is restless today and I cannot write. I’ve taken a few attempts to unleash the strong emotional urge that I feel, but perhaps the intellectual vent that facilitates correct interpretation of sentiments and thereby enables a suitable expression isn’t wide enough to hold the gush. Needless to say, it’s spilling all over.
So if you can forgive my cluttered thoughts and worse still, the spillage of disjointed words and phrases like one in a fit of literary delirium, you may go on reading. By now, I may have tickled your curious instincts enough…oh, no…trust me, I am not trying in the least to follow the bandwagon of a Thursday night television soap from Balaji Telefilms…no flashy reverberations building up on ‘kahani ka aglaa twist’…I am merely trying to gauge the intensity of my propelling idiosyncrasies and sieving the clichéd from the novel. Whether I am successful or not, well…that’s another question!
Ironically, my inspiration is also my reason for confusion at this moment and it is called….love… an untamed force that enslaves me every time I try to imprison it. Does it happen to you as well? Love to me, is the omnipotent dream merchant’s biggest sellout! See how we fall in love, we falter, we fail; we console ourselves with “It must have been love but it’s over now…” only to find a new reason to fall in love and you’ll know exactly what I mean. No amount of heartburn is good enough to stop you or me from buying the next dream. Incorrigible romantics, aren’t we?
Before you start assuming that I have turned into a self-accredited love guru, let me tell you a wee bit more about what’s raiding my thoughts. A good friend of mine authored a paperback called that thing called love some years ago. The book hit the bestseller’s list instantly (am told it’s being translated in other languages and will be made into a film soon) and made him quite a star amongst promising young Indian authors. Am I promoting him? No, I am just trying to lead you to the fact that ‘love’ an emotion that is old as time itself, still manages to creep into our so-called seemingly busier-than-ever-lives and steal the heart and soul, and if I may be allowed to add…pockets away. Love sells; and it sells like politics, sex and glamour. We all know about it, live it, love it or hate it, but we buy it nonetheless.
Yet, do we all really know what we know? As I am looking at this paperback, I tell myself, my bible for this particular emotion, is however not this bestseller. It’s a beautiful compilation of thoughts called The Zahir by Paulo Coelho, my holy grail for life's most beautiful yet most painful experiences, one that leaves me fulfilled yet empty at the same time.
You are your best judge, but this thing called love and its unfamiliarity makes me nervous. It is wild and instinctive, with the rawness instantly reminding me of a bleeding cut, one that stares blatantly at your face and tells you..."Be careful here, it hurts". And I strive to fight against that instinct, strangely though hoping against hope that I won't win, until there comes a point when I allow myself to be vanquished by my overpowering enemy, my unconstrained outburst of bottled up emotions.
This thing called love, I don’t like it at all....it collates all the self contradictory weaknesses and strengths, amalgamates them in an illogical cement, and puts up a self promoting placard akin to a popular ad slogan that says....Dare to dream.
And while my battle for rationale continues, another part of me, the less calculative, less scientific, less scheming alter ego, lounges in the tranquility of this upheaval. Sounds paradoxical? Perhaps! Let me elucidate....it's like being in the eye of the storm, letting the eddies form, lash, whip, bellow around you, while you stay inert, untouched....that eye of the tornado is my love absolute, my obsession with the concept of one, its manifestation in life and its interpretation in you, .....that is my Zahir.
While I might go into another maelstorm of oscillating logic and emotions on another day, right now I'll rather cherish this thought and live happily with the truth thus... ruuh ke bandhan khulte nahin hain, daag hai dilke dhuulte nahin hain..
With and within you...

PS: It's raining again...and you know what? I just knew it would...