Saturday, February 18, 2006

This is what I see

I see that you and I would be fantastic together. We'd have great kids, and our home would be cluttered, rambling, heaving. Chaotic, rollicking, and topsy turvy. Every single day. There would be great fights, great discussions, dramatic utterences and over the top make-up sessions, apologies and declarations of love.

There'd be curiosities, nick nacks and tid bits, and not of the gastronomic kind, scattered everywhere. Each piece will have its own story, history. Even the tea spoon will be quivering with passion, and something to tell.

Our kids will not know what hit them and where they landed and whats happening till they grow up and leave home. But they will have learnt a lot of survival skills, and to argue.. a lot.

There will be a mountain of books.. or mountains of books.. in every single room, including the garage and the bathroom.

There will never be a 'Hush, baby sleeping' sign for any of the kids. They would just learn to sleep inspite of the vibrations of chaos.

Friends would know they could leave the whole world behind them when they enter ours, for they can be what they want to be and then some more. Their kids would wish they were ours. Ours would look horrified at such a wish.
This, and some more, is what i see.

But what I don't see, I suppose, is that I keep thinking you are some one that I want you to be, but you are not that, not yet, and perhaps will never be, for you don't see what I see.

You don't see that constraints are like blankets. You throw them off when the sun shines through. You might like to snuggle under and snooze as long as you like, but eventually, you do throw them off, or should. Even if after, you have to wade through piercing cold to reach your bathrobe.

4 comments:

an old admirer said...

Caution: Do not kindle my creativity……

Your very existence validates Pauli’s exclusion principle…..


But what I don't see, I suppose, is that I keep thinking you are some one that I want you to be, but you are not that, not yet, and perhaps will never be, for you don't see what I see.

I clearly see ... what you "Dream"...

Since day i had i met you... i had always felt that you should have been born as a boy...

Your article sounds romantic....

The Unadulterated Cat said...

Mr Old Admirer, you are freaking me out.

Who are you? Oh, don't tell me. I know. You used to be my classmate. You're the one who called my department and asked for my number?
Man, school finished ages ago.
We were never friends, no matter what stories i might've told you. I left that place when I was 14.
Get over it.

If that's not you, then, coming back to the question.. who are you?

Suresh said...

ok i am sorry..

i am not here to freak you..
its me your school mate...

thanx you made the point clear...

i thought you were my good friend.... sorry.. an ordinary friend


There were quite a few amongst us..
such as me and roopa of course who really liked you....
and considered you to always be a part of our school life memories...

but is there something wrong in liking a person.. and in retaining their memories..

why is it you hate so much....

i thought the very fact that someone still remembers a person...
would make the he/she feel happy..

ok leave it..
let me be someone... whom you really don't know.. as it happens to be case...

is there something wrong to extend a hand of friendship..atleast on the net...

just thought it would be interesting to be in touch with you.. and nothing more than that..

now that you don't know me..
treat me just a stranger.. alien or something .. extending a hand of friendship...

i mean no harm...i just meant fun..

all i wanted from you was just a copy of what you blogg.. to simply interact with the most eccentric/interesting person..i had ever come across in life..

you do know me ..bye..take care..

Another old admirer? said...

Strange, i remembered it just the same way.

The dilema.
Passion burns like a wood stove. when the doors are shut the fire is a steady red glow which slowly consumes itself until there are only ashes yet the warmth lasts on some time, a memory of fire, the heat in the house a testiment to what existed for a time, until that too fades and dissipates and returns to chill and cold. But when the door is opened the flames lick upward with vigour and life generating a fierce raging blaze. At such a time,what happens is as though more timber placed within to fuel the conlfagration, maintains the continuity of comfort and warmth. The door is closed again for a time.

And so punctuated by space this is what happens when I see you.

make it soon as there are glowing embers

xx