Week 15: The One where I met Bakshiji

22 Jan

Love at first sight is always spoken in the past tense. The scene is perfectly adapted to this temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed, it is already a memory” – Roland Barthes

When you see something for the first time, its suddenness, its uniqueness is something you fall in love with, if you do. But that moment – the first time you saw that something, that someone – is already gone. It’s already past now. That’s why I always talk about love and melancholy at the same time. That’s what probably Jason Silva tries to explain through his videos. The feeling of ecstasy is always followed by the feeling of melancholy. How much ever we deny the ephemeral nature – of existence of love, of life, of that cuddle, that hug – it is true and it is going to happen. We are bound to miss it when it is over. We are bound to feel that pensive pain. But can we blame ourselves for falling in love? Can we blame ourselves for feeling the need to hug someone, tight? Can we blame ourselves to wish to not let the moment pass? Probably that is why we write poems and letters, click pictures and capture those moments to defy that temporary existence and to try to give them some permanence. Stories never end if you don’t let them. But stories can’t be forced to be continued. They need that natural flow, for them, for their characters, for their essence. Had it been *only* in my hand to not let stories end, I wouldn’t let them. But sadly, that’s not the case every time.

And how much ever we deny it, can we stop ourselves from falling in love, again and again?

Some food for thought, that.

So this week was such. A week full of poetry, of photography, of making new friends, of meeting old ones, of conversations, of long walks, of stories. I read 3 of my poems in last one week, at 2 different poetry sessions/events. Wrote 2 new ones and heard tens of poets! Could I ask for more? In an ideal world, yes.

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Reading “Bhai, Bambai ki baat alag hai” at The Poetry Club Mumbai, session 28.



And this is what Marine Drive looked like post sunset, yesterday.


PS: I got a handwritten letter, which I am yet to read. And I don’t want to, for I don’t want to finish reading it, till I know I have a new one to read. Talk about love for handwritten letters!

PPS: I made an awesome friend this week. Namu, or as I call her – Bakshiji! Now the title of the blog post makes sense, doesn’t it?

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Posted by on January 22, 2016 in Zindagy Weekly


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