Transcendence

I strolled to the outside, wondering what I could do to please the one on the other end of the red and black. With failure to find what I was looking for, the effort of thinking so intently by pushing away other thoughts left my brain absolutely blank. Just when that inability to please was about to push me into the now almost familiar gorge of dejection, I fell into the valley of bliss as I realized there was glitter at my doorstep. I stepped into the moonlight, too gleeful to be afraid that it might vanish, like most other beautiful moments in life. I left my foot there, waiting for it to be completely immersed in the glitter, waiting patiently for the magic to mingle in my blood and reach my soul before lifting my face to savour another image of God's wonderful gift.

This light was the one I considered most precious after the light of faith. For as long as memory permitted me, it had illuminated the lanes of my memory, trains of thoughts and my porch. I waited for the end of summer when this moonlight would give life to the exterior of my bedroom, when it made me feel protected in its halo. But that protection was not the sole reason why I admired it so much. It had a lovely companion that I waited for throughout the year.

Slowly I allowed my entire body to embrace the moonlight. Inching ever so slightly into it, so I could absorb all its magic, I began to lift my chin to finally see that magnificent orb. The light filled my eyes and I witnessed the radiant halo and then finally its source. 

The best part about a full moon is the very prominent star of light it radiates in four directions. Look more closely and you'll notice that it not a four cornered one but there are paths radiating in four more directions, like how you make eight slices of pizza. I know that's probably the worst analogy one could use but it’s simple, for once. Actually it’s not about a closer look but just tilting your head in different directions so different angles show the different paths.

When I couldn't stare at the moon for longer because it seemed to be burning with a blue flame/glow (which is just my eyes playing tricks so that they can survive another few years), I turned to the other far-from-earth object of my affection. Venus, as you might have guessed if you've read my blog since the beginning (you don't really need to personally know me for that). It first seemed that Venus was in the wake of the moon and they were playing a game - not the flirtatious kind that Greek mythology creates between Apollo's celestial love and Venus but of an innocent, childish nature, that is a shade of their stunning white purity. Venus seemed so small next to the full moon, so distant but yet in its wake, as if the moon made an effort to extend its halo of protection to Venus as well. In spite of its small size, Venus stood out bright and proud, guarding its identity with its twinkle, not even slightly inhibited by the moon. Complimenting each other, free from the envious urge to outshine the other, together they travelled through the fabric of time and space and I thanked God for giving me another chance to witness this courtship and feel such joy. Yes, I call it courtship because when I see them, the joy I feel seems to be what it must be like to be in love. I know that's VERY cliché and I could probably be strangled for using it but that is how I feel. I have never been in love, I don't know what it’s like: if it’s really how people describe it and whether Wordsworth was actually inspired by Venus to make a connection but that really is what I feel when I see this pair in the sky in its unearthly, majestic glow. This feeling I get, this joy and happiness I feel to my core of my soul is probably what love feels like, to say the least. Once again, apologies for the clichéd connection. I do respect Wordsworth a lot for his urge to defy clichés and I can not imagine comparing myself to him (for a million reasons apart from the fact that he was a  poet of inenerrable profundity) but if I had lived before Wordsworth, I would have used Venus and then I would be winnaaar. 

11. I've tried having a burger for Sehri but not Iftaar but I have a feeling it tastes better in the latter part of the day. Perhaps you could enlighten me?

12. I was searching for pictures of pretty white horses. No, not unicorns or Dora's ponies but white stallions and this is what I found among the images. I couldn't help being interested because this just reminded me how far we have come: from horses to cars named after them. You know what really pleases me about this car? In spite of achieving so much, we haven't forgotten our source of inspiration for the origin of cars. If Ferrari remembers to praise white stallions, we should too.

13. To make the note lighter, let's fly away with the bubbles. Pop, pop, pop! Don't miss out on the lovely colour spectrum that dispersion creates because each bubble is a magical little world and all of its colours are precious.

14. Chocolate cookies! And they don't look burnt or any more crisp than they should be because they seem to have been baked on a colourful spring evening and not at 2 a.m. I WANT!

15. Quasars, radio galaxies or white holes. Call them whatever you'd like to because they are the next best thing after my dear Pulsars. A picture speaks a thousand words and there are quite a few pictures here.                                                                         Is it just me, or are the Quasars actually colour schemed to match my blog??? ZOMG ZOMG! *excited face*

16. I've never done anything quite so eccentric, other than riding in a truck with my class mates. I thought I could give this a try, leaving out the guns and all, of course. I will take the roses, however.

This is the most decent picture I could find of this 'term'. Makes my blog look evil? Please please?

17. OHMAIGAWWDDD!!!! Who doesn't love chicken wings??? Maybe I'll try having them for Iftaar.

Mujhe roza nahin lag raha, okay?

ZOMG! ZOMG! ZOMG! NOM! NOM! NOM! EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! FOODDD!!!

18.  Hawaiian shirts! I'm gonna get one too. But I like Rio better. Do you think the Rio people will mind if I wear a Hawaiian shirt to Rio? Nah, I guess they're nice and hospitable and all.

Also, I want some bling. Okay, not really. But IT'S SO SHINY!!!! OHMAAGAAD MY EYES!

 

19. JALEBI! What more can I say?

20. Miscellaneous happiness : D

The Odds of the End

Death is painful - something we all know.

For some it's serene - an effortless transition from one content life to another; for others it's a matter of relief and for another lot, it's the most excruciating experience of their life and ironically death.

However, for those who stand by and watch, it's always painful. Always.
It doesn't matter how, when or why it happened, but only that it did. It doesn't matter if you were the cold-blooded murderer or the helpless onlooker whose arms became the final abode of the departing soul. It doesn't matter if the blood that stains your hands was a product of the gash you gave someone or it's there because you held the warm, living body that became cold and dead in a matter of moments. Either way, pain is a constant companion- irrespective of who feels it.

It brings us pain to know that we can't do anything to hold onto those breaths that are softly slipping away. Anguish grips us as we realize in essence how the fire of life is about to be extinguished and leave behind the cold, dry embers of a lost life, a lost soul, a lost world. And we stand and watch, crushed by that helplessness, waiting for the curtains to fall and the lights to explode into the creeping darkness that threatens to engulf us and all that's dear to us.We wait for the burns to heal with the light that can burn this pain. And we wait.

But more often than not, light chooses to travel into the distant depths of the universe, up, above and away from where we are. From the stars, to some other stars and infinity - where every soul travels - at some point in its life, or death. Yes, that's where we believe they are: somewhere within infinity, with that light that left us to reach them, help them, guide them, hold them. It is almost relieving to bear that pain, that suffocating embrace of the dark if we believe that the light leaves us and somehow helps the ones we love.

Up, above and away are all so distant and yet so close. They are so hard to touch but they touch our lives so easily. They define transcendence from our troubles, offer an escape, only a very impractical and untouchable one. But they offer something, even if it is another life - that after death.

My exams finished today and I'd thought I'd write a blog post overflowing with glee of some sort or at least something that reflected freedom. The moon was full tonight and oh so beautiful when I went out for a walk and I decided to write something related to that but then I had an encounter with death. Most of us might consider this encounter a very trivial one and it probably is but I just can't feel that way.

Walking back home, I saw a dead eagle on the road-side. My eyes bulged out for a moment when I realized what it was and I got terribly upset. I actually felt my heart getting heavy! I'm not exactly an animal rights activist (although I do believe that animals should be treated nicely because WE are humans), but grief did grip me for long enough to produce this morose piece.

It was not the eagle or it's death that hurt so much, perhaps. It was the closeness of death, right beneath my eyes, the fine line between the two phases that is so easily lost to sight. Seeing the eagle's neck lolled to its left; its body that was previously vibrant with life, turned into a static wooden frame; the grey shutters on the eyes and the beak covered in dust made me want to kneel down and start weeping. It's been so long since I've felt that way and back then it used to be where humans were concerned. I've seen dead animals before but never have I felt quite so broken by the sight.

I guess it's just because I haven't paid attention to any deaths in the past two months. Also, it was the realization that this living body that soared to great heights of blue oblivion would have bolted to the ground and lost its life in a snap. The simplicity of transition between these two extremes of what lies up above and away against that which takes one beneath the ground is just so paradoxical and ironic. This battle between warm and cold, black and white, heights and depths is what maintains the continuity of life - by ending some.

It is an act of greatly low stature to end a life. It is a matter of great pain, patience and strength to watch an end. I can't imagine how great it would be to have the chance to save a life.