Fidgety.

I should have known. The lightness of 'the joy of doing nothing' does convert into heaviness, i.e. almost 9 times out of 10, it does. So, this 'nothing' has triggered a sort of a panic inside me. Being indecisive is something I've accepted as a manufacturing defect in me; however this time, I might be nearing a nervous breakdown. With the endless introspective and exasperating arguments clearing my throat everyday, I feel as clueless as a shadow of a bird in motion. Feeling Fidgety.

In his subtle brilliance.

In his subtle brilliance,

she secretly loathed herself.

A free thinker, an earnest soul,

he loved beyond limits or control.

She was a fountain, followed by a drought,

Demure but daring, sure but distraught.

In her turbulent vicissitude,
he quietly bathed himself.

Always moving, always leaping,
every inch in her, boisterous, million thoughts creeping.
He cherished the slow-pace, loved to linger,
Passionate but lost, an ambition-less singer.

dolce far neinte!

The sweetness of doing 'nothing'..Italians call it " Il dolce far niente"

That is the phrase that constantly rings in my head, ever since I learnt it from the 'disappointing' movie 'Eat Pray Sleep'..
It rings whenever I see Julie or Shilpi or Shersingh or even Tipsy, the familiar dogs, lazying around as if there is nothing that cannot wait.. whenever I see the friends in my colony religiously meeting in the evening for a drag here, for a game there, but more so for the charming banter of utter uselessness.. whenever I think of the kids at Ummeed spending light years playing marbles and gilli danda.. whenever I remember Jawahar Kala Kendra, Jaipur and the endless conversations mixed with coffees and cigarettes there.. or those long bus rides in Goa, where my mind was the always out of the window.. or the college days, where I actually got addicted to this sweetness.. not to my surprise, though!

So now it's that time again, yet another farewell.. yet another rusty cupboard of memories fixed in the heart.. yet another stretch of absolute nothing to do for a month and half, till I get selected in the Helen Keller Instt... yet another overdose of 'dolce far neinte'!

Not everything that makes you happy turns out to be love, just as not everything that makes you hurt turns out to be a mistake..

the usual uneasiness.

I am not sure what others do with it - if they try to cover it with a blanket of passiveness, or distract it with something delirious like a crazy movie or a crazy kiss, or if they sprinkle whiskey over it, or hug a pillow, or eat like wild boars over it .. whatever it is, I am sure nothing seems like a perfect solution to this uneasiness that grips you some days and makes you feel  as if there is something missing, something wrong somewhere but you can't put a finger on it.

It is strong enough to make you impulsive and take steps that may change your life (if you allow it, i.e.) and yet, so fragile that one whiff of alternatives and it sinks deep inside to come out at some other time, probably stronger. The uneasy thing about this uneasiness is that it's not unwanted, but it's not tempting either. You feel detached from whatever you're doing and a strange eagerness to break away so that you can unfold the mystery. But there's never enough evidence or hope that you'll succeed and so it seems worthless to stop.

So at the end of the day, to explain it to ourselves, we attach it to a reason that looks reasonable enough and go back to the usual, not knowing if the uneasiness actually faded or if we just taped some cement of reality on it.