When you exhale the smoke takes life of its own, wrapping itself around your imagination to make the past come alive. It forms your face, only for the briefest of moments. Your eyes are half open, mine half closed. The smoke trails off into elegant, hazy tendrils and like a man high I can see everything in them.
Our lives are memories, exhale and you can see where you come from. Friends, family, love, childhood, laughter, tears, rain, sunshine, victory, defeat...all are alive for us to live again. Maybe I live too much in the past at times, but I can't help it. I'm fond of things I've known and I can't break free of them. Lives lived, moments cherished, laughter shared and friendhips forged. I would be nothing without them, and neither would you.
Why is it that we are rushing blindly ahead? Why is it that we are told not to live in the past, after all its our past that made us into who we are. Memories are my fondest friends in solitude, I pick my brain for the right ones to suit my mood and I always find what i'm looking for. I remember, its what makes me what I am.
You remember them too, right? Of course you do. How many inconsequential details do I remember? Countless. Googly, your hair had a garland of white flowers in them and you were laughing, deliriously (like you always do). Gogi, you were running from wall to wall toting the "world's most electrifying move in sports entertainment". Kamal, you were grinning all the while through our "Dadu Tum" jig. Zooms, you would walk into my room late at night and we'd just talk about nothing, and you'd do your muttley impersonation. Mum's chu-chu and Dad's sheikh saab (of Chili) and even Phopo's Aliya japani topi and all. It can't all have been meant to forgotten.
It's all like an endlless dream from which I wish never to wake up, and it just keeps going on. Osman's declarations off "Scene, On Ho Gaya Hai!" and Sharif's "Doh rupay ki thi". Samay, always doing the mock imitations of laughter followed by her eye-rolls. Jabi, you always used to light up like a light-bulb when you laughed. Monty would always say the phrase "Tu bohat harami hai!" like a compliment. The twins who always failed to see the point but would never let that stop them from laughing about it never the less. Waqas, you will always be such a matyr to be picked on: "Pindi!" Mazzy, the Jaime to my Tyrion (and of course the elder sister to my hunter). Did I forget someone? Nah, I don't forget, remember.
You can't be sad, you've lived so much and you've got so much to remember. A memory for each step you'll ever take, another one for every breath and yet another for every smile. We're all richer for the lives we've lived, yes everyone. If you can remember that look in your mother's eye. If you can remember you father's embrace. If you can remember glances that held meanings deeper than words. If you lose your breath over the past, then you have lived.
I ran like the wind
Chasing storms of fantasy
Fearless, thunder beneath
And I laugh for every drop
The storm spent
Kissing death with fury
Loving life with passion
Jumping for the sky
Reaching for the ground
Always falling, always rising
Memories guiding my way
Running forward, looking back
Dancing with measure
Loving without
Words to live a life by
Memoria est eternus
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4 comments:
*sniff* I feel so discarded...
And yet I only recognised maybe three of those names.
Funny thing about Latin. In short bursts it is ever so intriguing, but if you actually sit down with it, the whole thing is so much better to say in some dark, mystical way. Learning the abc of any language seems to take some magic away from it.
Those with memories need no diary, though diaries provide something sensational to read on the train. Hideous paraphrasing of Oscar Wilde.
But nobody says forget the past. It shall forver be the good ol' days. And now having left that most dismal of universities, I feel it had its own hidden charm as well. Not the least of which was 6 mths off a year ::)
*ahem* Ah but they are good things memories are. Though those activities that were once everyday life and are now untouchable, tis torture to look back and wish. Tis lovely to hope for the better parts to manifest themselves in ze future.
p.s Thank you btw. Oh and I don't know what GP essay you were referring to :-/ My writing style was forever whimsical. I have always maintained that my blogs and journals poorly reflect my personality.
Happy New Year ^_^
memories, hmmm i only remember the good ones. ;)
the rest is there with me, anyway.
Ditto.
We humanoids are basically living reruns you see. I choose to seek a comforting fall from grace in knowing that what ever i'm feeling at any given moment, someone is recording on thier blog for posterity.
Good to have you drop by since it leads me to your sanctuary. Where iI have found something better expressed than anything i have read of written in a while.
Think i've found a new huant in blogoland.
Mazzy: Hey, great you got a chance to drop by and read it...now all you have to do is get your hand chopped off ;)
Sajjad: Living reruns, I like that phrase and your blog is about to develop a cult following, complete with slogans some day.
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