Zeitgeber


What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. “- William H. Davies

And yet life presents such majestically beautiful forms that a lesser mortal like me can’t help but stare. Even in the humdrum of busy Gurgaon life, peacocks wake me up daily and dance, flashing their majestic blue and I stare mesmerized, losing track of time. Now you seat yourself opposite me during vapid business meetings, engrossed on your business phone, oblivious to your own incredible good looks, a unique blend of features. A plain white shirt. Plain black trousers. A blue tie with a small yellow pattern. Black shoes. Nothing that calls for attention and yet I can’t steer my gaze away. You decide to jump in the conversation, gesticulating with your long hands. I am mesmerized with the gestures and gaze on as you fondle with your tie infinitely before managing to tie a successful knot.

I speak but not what I would like to. Unspoken words hang in the air; speech has always been elusive, never my forte. Even as a child I remained absolutely mute till the age of three when my fingers found expression through the stroke of a pen, only then did some sounds manage to break through my vocal chord. Even today my pen moves interminably, through lines, contours and words, undeterred by comprehension of the onlooker or the reader, but the spoken word remains grossly inadequate.

You meet my gaze and flash me a genuinely impish smile that lights up your eyes, miraculously producing three deep lines around the contours of your eyes running all the way up to the boundary of your wavy hair. My hands twitch to feel the texture of the waves and capture the playful colorful smile into my own black and white rendering, erasing the highlights, soiling my hands and clothes in black charcoal dust. I look at my hands- marred by far too many lines, some deep, some superficial but overall too clean. Charcoal has not left an indelible impression on them. Not just yet.

I look at my clothes.  Too immaculate. Too formal. Too insipid.  Too impersonal. Completely obscuring the person underneath.  The unwritten laws of professional conduct tether my action. But every experience is personal isn’t it?

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A dreamer. An intellectual, spoiled by the world of literature trying to find sanity through traveling and expression through Visual Art and writing! Hope you like my expressions on this blog!!

Posted in Thought
4 comments on “Zeitgeber
  1. joydeep22 says:

    i guess that was too personal to dare a comment..but liked the way u used words to describe an experience which was non verbal….want some more of this stuff….go go go.

    • Good writing is never personal, always to be shared and it has always amazed me as to how most muses have been women but seldom men both for writing and painting. Through this piece I wanted to fill that gap, although not sure my muse would appreciate the same. Anyway in art it is always the way you see and the relation of the sight to you, believe I have captured the same here!!

  2. nisheeth says:

    good one …

  3. Jasmine says:

    I had sent this to you as a personal response, should make for interesting reading on your blog:
    Amazing. 🙂 I notice how our writing is very similar.
    I love this ‘ fondle your tie till you make the successful knot’.
    And I love how you describe why your speech expression is limited. I was also a very silent child till my brother was born ( I was seven years old then). And we have a lifetime ahead of us. We are still evolving.
    I am the last person to give fashion advice: but I also felt the same about formals, and I found brooches to break out of it. I have a lot of animals, flowers, dancer, even a ship brooches. You can try some other jewellery too. And of course as you so rightly say ( this is also my favourite part of your passage) ‘every experience is personal’: inside your head is the most personal space and you can furnish it like you want.
    I will write more too. You have inspired me more.

    I notice even more existentialism in you Richa- every experience is personal.
    Would you have written this/ thought like this had you embraced the beaten path, as we say?
    I miss you Richa,

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