the ScriBBle
This is of empty corridors and broken lamp shades,of the everyday search for love and the regular reconciliation with the hollowness within.....of strings of words in which i searched for
meaning ...of illusions and dreams in which i lived and hoped to make it come real........
They say places are spaces of brick n stone and something inside me revolts cause i have known what red brick and 56 pillars can do to your existence .It can make you think and feel..like the texture that it involves,of the colour red and hard earth that was once upon a time ,soft and wet,waiting to be moulded.It happened to me some three years back ,as i sat on the little lush green manicured hill top on which were written the three golden letters..carved out letters...i tried hard to capture and store forever what i could see before me and sense inside me,it was the tranquility of the Gods,the peace that gives you strength and so i made promises to my self ,,may be the kind that every nineteen year old makes to herself.
Several promises of mountains to be conquered,of charms and glamour,of princes and fairies,of compromises never to be made,of oaths always to be kept and lanes never to be traversed again.I have not kept all these promises which i made to myself ,was it just a flash,a momentary happiness that i gave to myself,was it a recluse,a vagabond away from from the civilizational realities....was it me!
The red brick and 56 pillars...one pillar whispered to me one day ...and told me of all the tales it had been witness to ..the toil and the rewards,the tears,the burns and the bruises.Those tales have lived among the walls and left their essence there to be relived with greater vigour once again...
it is of...ringing cell phones left unanswered,of cups and cups of tea,of a ceiling fan with one wing and the failure of repair.....
meaning ...of illusions and dreams in which i lived and hoped to make it come real........
They say places are spaces of brick n stone and something inside me revolts cause i have known what red brick and 56 pillars can do to your existence .It can make you think and feel..like the texture that it involves,of the colour red and hard earth that was once upon a time ,soft and wet,waiting to be moulded.It happened to me some three years back ,as i sat on the little lush green manicured hill top on which were written the three golden letters..carved out letters...i tried hard to capture and store forever what i could see before me and sense inside me,it was the tranquility of the Gods,the peace that gives you strength and so i made promises to my self ,,may be the kind that every nineteen year old makes to herself.
Several promises of mountains to be conquered,of charms and glamour,of princes and fairies,of compromises never to be made,of oaths always to be kept and lanes never to be traversed again.I have not kept all these promises which i made to myself ,was it just a flash,a momentary happiness that i gave to myself,was it a recluse,a vagabond away from from the civilizational realities....was it me!
The red brick and 56 pillars...one pillar whispered to me one day ...and told me of all the tales it had been witness to ..the toil and the rewards,the tears,the burns and the bruises.Those tales have lived among the walls and left their essence there to be relived with greater vigour once again...
it is of...ringing cell phones left unanswered,of cups and cups of tea,of a ceiling fan with one wing and the failure of repair.....
posted by shrivridhi @ 9:35 AM
2 Comments:
At 8:52 PM,
der Bergwind said…
the scribble....
ya, its there everywhere, u just need to have the eye n ear , the senses to really feel the vibe that exudes... so much in luv with lsr :) sumthings that make u, somethings that aint a part of u... but they all wash u in their individual hues.. the last line is lovely!!
stories stay inside, sumtime we ignore it, aint important enuf but then with time 'the fairy tales' of life form the journey... pages turned, yellow... none the less... a brief history of times.
At 9:19 PM,
der Bergwind said…
"it is of...ringing cell phones left unanswered,of cups and cups of tea,of a ceiling fan with one wing and the failure of repair..... "
again lovely... just that failure of repair.. beautiful!
lifez like that i guess :)
once again.. great one.. simple, ya felt truly..
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