320 Monday Musings:Come and hear my heart beat – you will go deaf.
There are these moments when the heart beats to its own beat. It does not listen to you. It thumps against the rib cage and gives you the impression that it will just pop out. You can hear the thuds in your won ears. Those are crazy moments, beautiful moments, scary moments – moments far and in between, but moments that remain with you long after they are gone. You almost want to say to the person next to you, come and hear my heart beat – you will go deaf.
3 Shorties! ( never attempted this format – indulge and be kind as a reader)
1. I was just about twenty – in the mind of my parents i was to live life the way some watched movies -‘under adult supervision & guidance only ’. In my own mind I was already a person. I had discovered freedom – freedom to wear what I like, which they thought were outlandish, freedom to listen to new sounds in music which they frowned upon as cacophony, freedom to visit places at odd hours which they thought that good girls should never be spotted in – and above all the freedom to think on my own and firm up my own views. They and I both, were living two lives – one in the world of expectations and one in reality. I had also discovered Old monk, a quarter always in my book rack as my ‘stock’. One day dad was searching something and rummaged through my book shelf and discovered the Old Monk. I am still not sure what shocked him more – the bottle or the brand; and all I wanted to do was not to let him hear my heart beats – he would have gone deaf.
2. A river separates my side of the village from my school. As one crossed the river, but before the school perimeter began was a large Tamarind tree. It stood like a huge guard with spread out arms and an erect back. As winds blew it would sway like a village drunkard on cheap homemade liquor. As evening descended in an otherwise dark village, its silhouette would become sinister. From a distance one could only imagine a monster swaying and making spooky sounds. It was difficult to cross it without feeling someone was ready to pounce you. The village had stories about the ghosts who lived on the tree particularly after dark, and more so on Saturdays, the days of Shani. Today I know they were stories to get us back home before sundown, but in those days I would never imagine crossing the tree in dark. I knew I would die before dying. I stayed back on that side of the town one evening, having played longer that the quota that daylight accorded. I was to return home just under the tamarind tree, after dark on that Saturday. It must have been only a minute for the stretch – but the run, the chill on the spine, the mortal fear that only an 11 year old can feel – and yes of course that pounding in the chamber of my heart. You would have gone deaf.
3. ‘’Love is a fiction’’ – He loved saying after his drinks. We knew where it was coming from. The whole hostel knew. Heart break at 20 can appear cataclysmic. It appears to be end of everything. We knew that the least we could do was to be empathetic to his woes – particularly because he was funding the drinks. A hostelite can do much more for free booze. We also knew that something in him had snapped and in those days we were quite sure that he would never be the same – we not seen enough life to know that we can never be so sure of anything. He had become grown up too soon. He was this serious chap who went about his life like a very responsible adult, a grim look on his face – the look of a person who had seen the other side of love. We wanted to help him but did not know how. I met him two decades later and saw a different him. He was smiling helplessly, an ear to ear grin that was forever pasted on his face. It’s that look when you have experienced divine fragrance, breathtaking taste; when your senses are bowled by the prospect of what bliss awaits you. He whispered in my ears – ‘’I am so happy; if you were to hear my heart – you will go deaf’’.
www.gurucharangandhi.com || www.mondaymusingsbyguru.blogspot.com ||
@musingsbyguru
There are these moments when the heart beats to its own beat. It does not listen to you. It thumps against the rib cage and gives you the impression that it will just pop out. You can hear the thuds in your won ears. Those are crazy moments, beautiful moments, scary moments – moments far and in between, but moments that remain with you long after they are gone. You almost want to say to the person next to you, come and hear my heart beat – you will go deaf.
3 Shorties! ( never attempted this format – indulge and be kind as a reader)
1. I was just about twenty – in the mind of my parents i was to live life the way some watched movies -‘under adult supervision & guidance only ’. In my own mind I was already a person. I had discovered freedom – freedom to wear what I like, which they thought were outlandish, freedom to listen to new sounds in music which they frowned upon as cacophony, freedom to visit places at odd hours which they thought that good girls should never be spotted in – and above all the freedom to think on my own and firm up my own views. They and I both, were living two lives – one in the world of expectations and one in reality. I had also discovered Old monk, a quarter always in my book rack as my ‘stock’. One day dad was searching something and rummaged through my book shelf and discovered the Old Monk. I am still not sure what shocked him more – the bottle or the brand; and all I wanted to do was not to let him hear my heart beats – he would have gone deaf.
2. A river separates my side of the village from my school. As one crossed the river, but before the school perimeter began was a large Tamarind tree. It stood like a huge guard with spread out arms and an erect back. As winds blew it would sway like a village drunkard on cheap homemade liquor. As evening descended in an otherwise dark village, its silhouette would become sinister. From a distance one could only imagine a monster swaying and making spooky sounds. It was difficult to cross it without feeling someone was ready to pounce you. The village had stories about the ghosts who lived on the tree particularly after dark, and more so on Saturdays, the days of Shani. Today I know they were stories to get us back home before sundown, but in those days I would never imagine crossing the tree in dark. I knew I would die before dying. I stayed back on that side of the town one evening, having played longer that the quota that daylight accorded. I was to return home just under the tamarind tree, after dark on that Saturday. It must have been only a minute for the stretch – but the run, the chill on the spine, the mortal fear that only an 11 year old can feel – and yes of course that pounding in the chamber of my heart. You would have gone deaf.
3. ‘’Love is a fiction’’ – He loved saying after his drinks. We knew where it was coming from. The whole hostel knew. Heart break at 20 can appear cataclysmic. It appears to be end of everything. We knew that the least we could do was to be empathetic to his woes – particularly because he was funding the drinks. A hostelite can do much more for free booze. We also knew that something in him had snapped and in those days we were quite sure that he would never be the same – we not seen enough life to know that we can never be so sure of anything. He had become grown up too soon. He was this serious chap who went about his life like a very responsible adult, a grim look on his face – the look of a person who had seen the other side of love. We wanted to help him but did not know how. I met him two decades later and saw a different him. He was smiling helplessly, an ear to ear grin that was forever pasted on his face. It’s that look when you have experienced divine fragrance, breathtaking taste; when your senses are bowled by the prospect of what bliss awaits you. He whispered in my ears – ‘’I am so happy; if you were to hear my heart – you will go deaf’’.
www.gurucharangandhi.com || www.mondaymusingsbyguru.blogspot.com ||
@musingsbyguru
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