Pacific

In relation to ‘solitude’, Rainer Maria Rilke writes about the aspects of solitude, such as it leads to the discovery of personhood and acceptance of feelings like pain, sadness, anxiety, depression etc; former, as he writes in one of his correspondences with a friend about his meeting with his mother. Lewis Hyde describes the correspondence as consisting of the description of sympathetic intelligence  [1] where one ‘inwardly’, which might mean sub-consciously, completes someone’s gestures. The concept of ‘inwardness’ becomes coherent as Hyde describes that Rilke’s ability to identify with others led to the ramification of losing his own identity. Thus, solitude for the discovery of personhood. Latter, as Rilke believed that art requires an artist to accept such emotions instead of attempting to avoid it by being constantly attempting to interact with others & become social as it is not possible to achieve; thus, the state of mind as sadness should not be wallowed over as thou...

 For about nineteen years my mother has irrigated a barren land such that it never stopped sprouting long after she left the land and moved to another place. However, what followed next gave me a vantage to conclude this piece, especially after encountering a specific writing of Ruskin Bond which invoked an epiphany and at that moment, I could see four years of struggle to write this, and the past twenty-one years of my mother’s life align in perfect symmetry to reveal a discrete constellation, and everything made sense magically. I have spent four years with an inspiration to write this for my mother without meeting due actions to the inspiration. ‘Trees and plants always look like the people they live with somehow.’ (pg-35; A Little Book Of Magical Plants . Ruskin Bond) My mother is quite fond of plants. However, the source or the reasons of her fondness remain inexplicable to me, if at all reasons were ever needed to be fond of something. Somedays, I am inclined to ...

  Our manoeuvres were unstoppable for two weeks in a row. It started in the month of April and the sun had been pouring wrath like never before. We were incessantly working with zeal while profusely sweating. Then one day, there was a burst of clouds followed by thunderstorm. The thunderstorm came as a respite right after sunset. Later, it rained unabated for hours after hours till morning. I was drenched under rain along with others that night. I could not pay attention to feelings as long as I was dealing with the work in hands. It was until we took shelter under a shanty that I realised how cold I was inside and shivering outside. I saw people running covering their heads under flickering streetlights flanked on both sides of the roads. Some felt passion for rain while others felt against it. I felt nothing but cold. The parched ends in my chest were frayed under the pattering rain and tore open. I felt as cold as though the rain was pouring only on me. I felt lonely and my ...

It was a Sunday afternoon in the month of March. The house had withdrawn into silence while he took a siesta. At tea time, about 4 p.m., he woke up and strolled towards alcove, yawning. She noticed his shadow drawing close to take shape on the floor under the daylight illuminating the alcove, and then reverted to reading. He sat with her on the divan where she was reading. He began- I had a dream today. I was in a café waiting for you when my clients came. I left with them not sure if you ever visited the café behind me.  She looked up, and replied- Were your clients in an urgency?  He said- I don't know. I remember them mentioning a usual affair, nothing special.  She replied- I suppose you're mildly bugged that your personal life might be taxed in the pursuit of catching up with your professional life. Haven't you been strained about this?  He turned to face the window there and took some time to think before recommencing- I don't know. Perhaps.  She asked if ...

There is a thing about human civilization or an aspect of it, it seems these days that it develops or accurately manages to remain in existence because of its revivalism of eras, more like the renaissance isn't exclusive to a particular era or region but if it wasn't to its name then often do we live in renaissance, coming in phases. It comes in multiple or single section(s) of our lives. We develope a pattern of habits and pursue it until changes begin to drop hints and lead to a paradigm shift.  In general, we do something for a long time, until we subconsciously change it or forget about it. This leads to a change, it might happen to an individual or a group at large or even to a whole generation. Sometimes, voluntarily acquired habits work as long as it is involuntarily retained in the background of the mind like muscle memory, and not foregrounded; it is a slippery slope. It works till you do not pay heed to it and changes as soon as you acknowledge it to consciousness. ...

To the guy who wears shades of blue And is so tall as to medley with the sky of springs Who carries a guitar on his back as if a knight with a sword tucked in the scabbard  Which he lifted years later Sit by my side and I shall show you what hurricanes have done to my childhood  As if it was ransacked to find this adulthood out of it  I promise however viscous your emotions and dilemma might be  I would swim us back to shore and would try not to give up this time  Come here I'll tune your strings And it will all be fine  A brew of security and insecurity,  What are you, isn't it the same how you see me too?  What a sadist I do look, seeking pleasure in breaking the walls you have groomed Where did you lose your keys, is it in the same place where my butterflies had frozen?  Against all their prayers, your fears and worldly hymns It shall only be your voice that I'll allow Said or unsaid to be hear...