Some Pages from the Diary of a Nobody

Two mirror image houses...perhaps the owners are related i thought. There was some curiosity to know why the other house had no name. Kept wondering if one of them was built as an added extension but it couldn't be for they had between them a wall and separate gates. The wall and the gate hinting, this is mine and that is yours.

The two houses in that posh colony, plain and without any of those frills and fusses of it's neighbors stood close if not together just like my two brothers.
i brushed aside the thoughts about my brothers. It would've disturbed my equilibrium.
i started searching for beauty in simplicity instead. Maybe prompted by the name of one of them concrete twins.
'Sunder House' meaning beautiful, pretty...
Don't know about the occupants but i tried to listen what one concrete was saying to the other.
i thought i heard Emily Dickinson.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
http://www.beyondbooks.com/mediafiles/programs/lit71/nobodypoetry.mp3

Suddenly that pain hit me.

i thought i was happy in my bliss of solitude but i was not.

i realized i was not only alone but also very lonely.

Deep inside embedded within me was a board , a cold plate that said TO-LET.

i look at the twins and tears streamed incessantly, uncontrollably as i let it flow. 

Isn't there any one out there who is a nobody like me...

Objects can be mirror images but people? 

We have twins for people too but they too are not mirror images either, not entirely.

Maybe i wouldn't want to have another me for then there would not be any specialty in being that nobody. Would there?
But i yearn, long and seek another who understands and accepts me and is comfortable with the the way i am.
Where do i look for another anonymous in this world where i see not people but infinite and newer efforts to impress.
Talking, doing, getting together... with all the frills, fusses and embellishments...everything that makes the other say, WOW! GREAT! WELL DONE...


How presumptuous of me to banish the thoughts of my brothers thinking i would be okay just listening to Emily Dickinson.
http://www.beyondbooks.com/mediafiles/programs/lit71/nobodypoetry.mp3

Here i was as unstable like a top in it's final phase of gyration, trying to twirl a wee bit more, holding on to the inertia, finally making sloppy and irregular ellipsis just before it topples over to lie dead still on the ground.

Tears with all it's saltiness on my tongue continue it's journey making raindrop like wet patches randomly on my shirt. Then dissipating into the weave of the cotton shirt, the wetness reminding me that there is no one not a single great less who could embrace another wow less in all her anonymity.
That another one who could resonate with my own, find stability in simplicity and help me through my own development in this system called life is simply not there.
This one out of the entire species has evaporated, dissipated into the world wide web.
The ache however has not evaporated instead is holding me steadfast. Only stubborn enough to choke and make me gasp for some breath than to willingly accept that the simple codes of simple friendships are extinct and our lives are getting frittered away in details.
One of the simple codes being is to expect. It's impossible not to have expectations from friendship.
The most important being accepted and understood.
Not that expect huge favors which normally friends these days seek out but genuine and small gestures.
Reciprocity can be another.


i'm tired and sort of fed up of just giving news that's entertaining to others, that too at my cost.
And i'm scared of drowning into a virtual world where i seek solace from virtual friends.
Expectations remaining unfulfilled i seem to be forging new bonds in the virtual world.
i don't know if i am on the right track or losing myself but my virtual world provides me with some solace if not all.

i am a rock too as this song says. Erosion, chipping, weathering feels more normal.
But rocks are not supposed to feel pain.
i am an island too but then why am i mourning like someone has died?


i thought i don't need real friends anymore but i was mistaken. 
i feel utterly lonely. i don't have anybody with whom i can truly be honest with.
i am fed up of conforming.
i am exhausted in my efforts to be kind always.
i am sick of the hypocrisy.
Oh God i don't have anybody who can see the real me and still be my true friend,
i thought i can manage being on my own  but NO! i do need someone who is not fake and with whom i need not be fake too. 
But most of all i need a NOBODY who has the inclination and the time for a nobody like me.
SOMEBODYS have better things in their agenda.
Even that concrete has another to give it company and i am after all a human.
i thought i was safe in my domain and no one can use me, insult me or hurt me anymore.
i drifted... away...further...
But now i need...
-i need to have normal honest conversations.
-i need to share my joys and sorrows.
-i need to hear joys and sorrows of someone.
- i need someone i am comfortable and free with.
-i need someone to be comfortable and free with me
-i need some one who can accept me with all my foils and foibles
-i need to accept someone who is not perfect too.
-i need...i need...
Where do i look...Oh God i have no one.

Finally when enough tears are shed and the heart feels lighter, stability returns like the hopeful rays of a new dawn. 

Look no further...the ray scribbles on that plate that has a TO-LET.

Accept and move on... the dawn signals.

i give one more look at the concrete twins, dropped the camera that tried to capture the twins whispering Emily Dickinson into the bag, pulled out a fresh citrus smelling wet wipe and did the needful to my sticky salty face, looked for a dustbin to throw the wet wipe. Spotted none only the neat well kept exteriors of those stylish houses. 

 Then holding the partially dry wet wipe in my hands like a miniature flag that fluttered as if proclaiming freedom,  i walked home absorbing the citrus whiff that continued to emanate from that white flag.
i didn't realize when all of Emily Dickinson, Paul Simon Art Garfunkel stopped and i started to mull over what my son had asked me over the phone last week...TO BE CONTD
Sure, but not without something to cheer up.

                                              Colour For Tuesday-Pink

Pink Hibiscus

http://www.allabouthappylife.com/wallpapers/hibiscus/hibiscus-flower-desktop.html

Image Courtesy:http://www.clipartguide.com/_pages/0511-1002-1704-3845.html

Precious...This One's for You

As i looked out from the window it was the hedge tree that got me interested to go and have a closer look at the attractive foliage first. i have seen these along roadsides in Delhi too but here in this city of Indore i found quite a many used mainly as a hedge tree close to the boundary wall. Some have even been pruned in the horticultural art of topiary to look like bright green umbrellas peeping out of the boundary walls. They are quite a sight even from the outside and a delight for everyone passing by.

i wonder what these trees are called. These brilliant greens that look partly like yew and partly like cypress from a distance. Then enquired within myself if i would have that patience enough to search out the nameless from the internet or out of that voluminous big book that i own. The one that lists the A-Z of about 10,000 species if not all.

Took a few more closer shots from the mobile camera to show it to my Forest Officer and maybe suggest him to replace that vacant area in his lawn by these. And who knows i might not have to go through all the pages of my big fat but priceless book. The one that i call fondly as my PRECIOUS.

It's sad when the Forest Officer had to remove both his laden with fruit, PRECIOUS coconut trees. The wonderful fronds of which formed an attractive entrance to his garden and lawn.

 PRECIOUS not only refreshed him from all his tiredness but  provided us all with some cool freshness even on those hot summer months when everything else turned limp, brown and dry. It was sheer delight to see the lush, glistening frondy branches sway in the breeze with all it's energy and vibrancy that challenged even the dreadful LOO (Hot and extremely dry winds of North India during summers).  During the last summer storm the branches hindered with the electric transmission lines and reeked havoc. Not only did a dangerous fire break out with a bang that sounded like a blast which psyched everyone in the colony but was also responsible for a major breakdown with no electricity for two days.

The aftermath of all this coupled with the hue and cry of neighbors saw Precious being cut down.While my sister narrated the incident i was remembering that poem On Killing A Tree  by Gieve Patel. But of course this is an imagery poem where the image of a tree is used by the poet which is highly suggestive and applies to killing human relations too, mainly.

These trees could be a good substitute if not the perfect one, so i thought and walked back.

But the road on both sides was flanked by more and i could not control myself. Maybe i could send in some more pictures and tempt him with more ideas that perhaps would add some color and drama to his vacant spots.Who knows in getting engaged in planting and growing these he might not miss his PRECIOUS that much. But then i can't vouch for that. However there's no harm in trying.

Alamanda

Ahhh the pretty , very pretty Alamanda. i'm sure his Jharkhand is full of the yellow one. That which is also known as the Golden Trumpet vine. Maybe he can plant a couple of these...

Or how about this variety of wild Plumeria which does not have the regular dark obovate leaves rather adorns leaves that look as if they are just back from a visit to the salon where they have been given such a fine cut that they stand out. The shape of the leaf resembles a fiddle perhaps for it to be called fiddle leaf Plumeria. Another standing out characteristic is that it has only one or two slender trunks unlike the regular sweet smelling Plumeria with thick succulent branches.  i loved the way it stood, dignified without any support despite it's slender body. No slouch...nor any droop... just smartly erect. 

Fiddle leaf Plumeria 

Plumeria pudica

Now this one is surely going to sweep him off his feet. Has he seen red Mussaenda cultured and trained to be a creeper like this? The stunning blood red sepals of which makes it look like a cheerleader, hailing glory on the porch of the beautiful house it adorns. All you can do is just stand there and say, WOW!!

i'm sure the first picture would give him that enormous kick to his ego when he would want to correct me on my folly by pointing out in his typical connoisseurs' style and as a matter of fact tone that i might have not identified the vine correctly.

 So how about giving him a closer peek.

Mussaenda erythrophylla

Ashanti Blood/ Red flagbush/ Tropical Dogwood

Maybe i could get a kick this time when i show him how beautifully three have been combined. The purple of the Bush Morning Glory, the red of the Mussaenda, and the orange of the Flaming Trumpet. For my perusal only revealed the surprise in purple and orange among the reds and i am dying to share the surprise with him. He should be able to make out the small purple buds and the dark green smaller leaves of the purple trumpet flower creeper. It's rather disappointing that i could not capture any of the orange clusters clearly either but i know i saw some tiny clusters. 

 i could be wrong about the name of the purple trumpet flowers because there exist many which look the same and are vines too. The Railway creeper being one too but this was definitely not the Railway Creeper because the dark green leaves were not cracked and seven lobed but heart shaped.

Are you a sight for sore eyes?

Or a traffic stopper?

Some Flaming Trumpet 

A stunning combination of vines that had shades of green, purple ,orange and dominating all, the blood red

Then i have to definitely ask him if he knew this which many here are using near their entrances. Very refreshing color of the double- pinnate leaves. Attractive and pleasantly eye catching! more for it's interesting foliage and it's color. Appearing as if the edges glowed with their own light of green mixed with yellow. 

Wonder if they flower too...

Although my heart pulsates with excitement i am not too sure this excitement can kindle the same into the heart of someone who had to go through that painful and hard task of killing his PRECIOUS. That which lived and responded to his care and nurturing by giving him a bountiful which was shared among one and all in that colony.  i can understand what he must be going through right now apart from the other tensions of a busy life. i can only hope that my attempt to cheer him up and motivate him to make yet another fresh start should be able to do just that. Nothing more...nothing less.

Knowing him just too well for his intensity and passion that angers him every time anything is addressed as an invasive weed , chances are that he already has...

But if wishes could be fulfilled i'd rather that, " ...And from close to the ground

               Will rise curled green twigs

   Miniature boughs,

Which if unchecked will expand again

To former size.

...."

And for times when wishes are not fulfilled then this should not only remind but also suffice...

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and 

you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which 

has been your delight."

--- Kahlil Gibran