Jeremy

Jeremy was a star. His appearance in a room suddenly brightened everything. His being oozed a sense of purpose and determination. His laughter added so much fun! Everybody wanted a part of him. Everybody was in awe of him. He knew his effect on people and would shamelessly use it to get his way. He could be a bit selfish and self absorbed but no one complained - he had the best retorts in town! His compliments could boost anyone's ego for they were quite sincere indeed. But his insults were legendary - always made the best stories with drinks. Jeremy would waltz in and out of social scenes as a deft dancer, leaving a string of fans and foes behind - with no in-betweens. 

..

Shivering, cold self-consumption

A life lived in parts

Out of sequence and out of turn

Yet makes a mark

At work

His demeanor was polite and reserved. He seemed disinterested in his immediate surrounding, barely able to conceal his impatience with things, people and process. Yet his reactions to everything was polite and distant, not rude and people seemed interested in him. He would be the first to arrive at work and one of the last ones to leave. His boss appreciated his dedication towards his work and trusted him with providing excellent service to his customers. Jim would sit on his desk, with his head bent over the files as he calculated the daily transactions of business and totaled them before providing the final copy to his manager.

His external appearance did not betray the noise that consumed his person. His agony was only for him to experience, like every overwhelming feeling in his life. Everyone around him assumed that he was fine. 

In control

Folks roam around behaving and believing that they know what they are doing. Most of the time, they do - at least in the materialistic and physical sense. But does everyone really know what are they doing and why? Is it that easy to be clear on everything when most of the things are not in our control? So then is it right to label people as clueless? People forget that plan of action as per one individual does not match the plan of action of another - most of the time.

I am tired of people trying to convince everyone around them that they "best" know what they are doing.

The beginning

Jim was the third child, born to his parents in the cold month of January. Elder brother John and elder sister Joan were five and three years old at the time of his birth. It was a grim morning with no sun in sight and the midwife grumbled as she prepared for birth. She had been paid very little as advance and she did not expect full payment to happen any time soon. She would have to wait, like last time but she trusted the Langston family to pay up sooner or later. It was a cold day to begin with and she had not even had her coffee till now. Henry Langston tried to make up for everything by fixing her a cup of coffee as he waited for the birth. He threw nervous glances at Laura, his wife and mother of his children, as she went through labor. The kids had been sent to the neighbors' house, where they slept in blissful ignorance.

The previous year had been very rough for the Langston family, with Henry losing his permanent position at the quarry. He was able to meet the needs of his family by taking any temporary work that was available at the quarry and working at night in the dock. It went on for sometime, till his position at the dock became permanent and the family took a sigh of relief. Laura Langston had been a good wife and mother who dutifully ran the household and prayed fervently throughout. By Christmas, Langston family had moved to a neighborhood closer to the docks, though not far from the town.

This new house would be home as Jim would know it for a long time. 

As Jim stopped to think, memory provided some images. The road to their house was second from right as one approached the route to the dock. It turned into a quite corner and ended in a group of trees. His house was right there - an old, wooden structure with rust color paint, peeled at places to make a peculiar pattern. Memory played games - it was brighter and bigger in his thoughts. It must have been a sad, small place. But to him, it was home - warm and comforting to his bones.

Summer Play

As he stopped to think, memory provided some places and people as company. The road was second from right. It turned into a quite corner and ended in a group of trees. His house was right there - an old, wooden structure with rust color paint, peeled at places to make a peculiar pattern. Memory plays games -  it was brighter and bigger in his thoughts. It must have been a sad, small place. But to him, it was home - warm and comforting to his bones.

He could even see to this day, his sister Alice holding the wooden post that held their little patio up, waiting for him to come home. Those days he was working as an apprentice at the local lumber shop. Earlier that summer, his dad had made him join it, to make him earn some extra bucks for the house. He did not particularly love the job. The problem was he did not hate it enough. So he was chugging along, thinking of it as a temporary summer job. Somewhere he knew, this was not his future, yet he had no clue of an alternative that he could live for. But his parents thought otherwise.

Connect

A connection of sorts,
soul stirring, yet balanced
tells to hang in there
A god-gifted sign

So how can we give the future generation, the life that we did not have?

Missed the Point

A cygnet was born to a duck family. And eventually it became a swan. That is not the point of this story. 

It is the story of the duck family. And how they failed to notice a swan. And how they tried every possible method in the book to make that cygnet, a duckling. And how they gave up. 

How they missed the point. 

And how a duck was born to the Swan family and how they too missed the point.  

It is a pattern of sorts that I can see in these lives. 

Small Towns and Big Cities

Small towns are their own kind of judge. They look sleepy, laid back and peaceful but there is a distinct sense of cruelty that is at play - especially for people who are different. Just plain different. Difference could be in the form of non-conformation to general "expected" behavior to an actual exception to what is can be considered as a misfortune. These towns have their own way of questioning the non-conformists, of putting spotlight on people who would rather be left alone, of expecting these folks to change one day to conform.

Big cities seem impersonal, in a hurry and harsh. Yet they are kind. They let people be. They let non-conformists feel safe, at home, at peace. They shift the spotlight to opportunities that can let the non-conformists grow and explore, at their own pace, like an old friend who understands and gives space and waits, without judging.

Fate

We are fated to meet people who will eventually elevate us to the next level. There is a reason that we have met. Some people are hard to miss, they just come and stay. 

Glorious Day!

Oh the joy of being alive! 

On such beautiful days, I think I finally get what they mean when they say that the best part about life is being alive! To feel and to experience everything. Every bit of it with equal fervor. With joy. With the understanding that we do not understand it all. The point is to live it. With humility and love for everything. Everything we don't understand or question now just shows the extent we need to go to get over it!

The sum total of all your experiences is indeed you! 

Nothing to Write?

Surely, it cannot be that I have nothing to write about! It is more like, I have so many things to write about that I automatically fall into the lazy zone.

Like the dreams we get in the morning.
Half completed, half lingering.
Sometimes wishing they never come true.
Sometimes wishing, they should in parts.

Yes, it is interesting to have met people and lived a part of their lives. Yes, people who let you be a part of them also become a part of you.

It is a most wonderful life! Nothing interesting to show, every thing to feel.