FROM THE DIARY OF AN ORDINARY MAN contd.

The other day, as is my habit , I picked up one of my old books and skimmed through it. That is one of my ways of travelling down memory lane. In this case thirty years back in time when I had first read Carl Jung’s “ Memories, Dreams, Reflections “. May be, he was always in my mind, my subconscious. For what was it that prompted me to pick up this particular book at a time when I had sat down to chronicle my life story.



Replying to a request to set down the memories of his youth, Jung wrote: “when we are old, we are drawn back, both from within and from without, to memories of youth. Once before, some thirty years ago, my pupils asked me for an account of how I arrived at my conceptions of the unconscious. I fulfilled this request by giving a seminar. During the last years the suggestion has come to me from various quarters that I should do something akin to an autobiography. I have been unable to conceive of my doing anything of the sort. I know too many autobiographies, with their self deceptions and downright lies, and I know too much about the impossibility of self portrayal, to venture on any such attempt.”



I have written earlier that “I have always thought that its easiest to write one’s own story, but now I have found that it is hard to expose what you have hidden so long. Also it is tough when you have nothing spectacular that has happened in your life. You have had an ordinary life.” I guess that is where self deception and downright lies come in.

FROM THE DIARY OF AN ORDINARY MAN

I am just an ordinary man,

I do just what I can,

So let me be

As you can see,

I am one of those who also ran.



You cannot say I do not care;

Of love and dreams, I have had my share:

Of pain and pleasure,

In no small measure,

Though now I stand alone and stare.



I am sixty. So what? Anyone who is not dead by then will also be. I have retired. From what? So what now? Too many questions. I have been asked “So, what do you intend doing now?”



That was ten months ago, my intentions are still not clear. My friends and colleagues were sure that with my talents and varied interests I would never be at a loss to keep myself productively occupied. The problem is that I took them at face value and am now seriously trying to find out where my talents lie and what my interests are.



It has been a long standing ambition of mine to write a book and what better than to write one’s autobiography. I have always thought that it is easiest to write one’s own story, but now I have found that it is hard to expose what you have hidden so long. Also it is tough when you have nothing spectacular that has happened in your life. You have had an ordinary life.



An ordinary life, yes, I have lived, I have loved and I shall one day die an ordinary man.

NOSTALGIA

NOSTALGIA

Something stirred,
Swept away
Three decades of dust.

Bygones had comeback,
To stay.
That same stare,
Reminded me of
The roses in the garden.

Where were you,
All this while,
Leaving me
Searching for your smile?
Groping for words,
That would’nt flow;
Time that would’nt wait.

Where were you,
When I cried ?
Now you come back,
When my tears have dried,
To stir up once again,
All that love,
That was once in vain.

Leave me, let me be,
Content in my phantasy.

ENCOUNTERS - contd.

AT THE HOSPITAL

An eternity,
An hour, two had passed,
He sat watching the lizard
On the wall,
Crawling, creeping
Towards its prey.

Outside,
The footsteps stopped,
The door creaked,
The doctor came
And pronounced the end.

He stared at her face ,
Into space,
Onto the wall.
The lizard had gone,
And the prey.

The wall remained
A silent grey spectator.

And they came,
One by one, and more:
And they left,
One by one, and more,
With folded hands,
And bowed heads,
And some with tears.

And he sat,
As the numbness grew,
Waiting,
For the lizard on the wall
And the prey.

The grey wall remained,
A silent grey spectator.
********************

In the other room,
The old man lies,
Waiting to expire.

And here we sit,
Laugh and shout
Till we perspire.

And the old man is deaf.

The shadows in the room lengthen
And blind his vision,
And he groans to feel,
He is still alive.

*********************

ENCOUNTERS - RENEWED

ENCOUNTERS - RENEWED

Today I return to my blog after spending the entire 2010 in silence. Was it intentional, like I have said previously that I lapse into periods of silence? No it just happened. However a lot of other things happened also – I retired from my job, moved to my own house and got my younger daughter married. All during 2010. I have been told that as now I am free of all my responsibilities I can do the things that I have always wanted to. Well one is never free of responsibilities, add to that, I am not really very sure what I want. For a start however I wanted to break my silence. So here I am sitting in front of my computer, the time being 12.15 am, doing exactly what I wanted. Good is’nt it?

I continue with my encounters,
Like silence,
in the midst of all this sound,
A blank page,
In the midst of all these words,
Nothingness,
In the midst of all this Being.
********************

He crossed the road,
In front of my car,
At the pedestrian crossing:
Well groomed, well dressed,
A pleasant look on his face,
He walked at a brisk pace:
A purposeful stride,
To reach the other side.

And he had no hands.

ENCOUNTERS - contd.

The old woman gazes into the mirror and counts the wrinkles on her face. For a brief moment she sees the face of a young girl, pretty and hopeful. Now the years had worn away both - beauty and hope. There is nothing more she looks forward to, except the wrinkles .

Under the shade of a tree sits an old man, a beggar, gazing, half asleep, at the distant horizon. Around him the sun beats with a whitish fury. Thoughtless and dreamless, he sits there, following only his instincts. When he feels hungry, he gets up and goes to beg. He eats what he gets and then returns to his daze.

SOLITUDE

And continuing the subject of Silence, an essential part of my Solitude, I treasure the Stillness.

SOLITUDE

Oh dearest Solitude!
Your silence stills my heart,
Yet sets my Self on fire:
Though you haunt me
With your varied visions,
You have opened new dimensions
For me to tread.
Though at times I do suffer,
The pangs of agony.
From the loss of company,
I know I can only be
Happy and content,
In that total detachment,
Only you can give.