Foundry

Mocking, they said, for the both of us it wouldn’t work out,
That, all it would take is a match stick, for both of us to burn out,
And for a while it seemed we both too, were in doubt,
How true it all was, we would very soon find out.

That is how we came to realize that something was badly broken,
And we had to fix it, if only to continue remaining bespoken,
We knew there was more than familiarity to revoke,
If those old feelings for each other we had to evoke.

Unconsciously each of us had built an invisible wall,
A wall that doggedly separates us footfall by footfall,
Alas, it’s a wall we love, wall we hate, wall we cannot mention,
Built by the bricks of our values, our beliefs,  our every emotion.

We need to work on this brick by brick, level by level,
Till we reach the very foundations of this upheaval,
When all that is left, is the mangled bars of foundation,
We reach the point that is beyond mere decimation.

That’s when we need to bend my ego with your humility,
To break your aggression upon my timidity,
To stamp my fear over with you courage,
To clear our ignorance with this knowledge.

To relent your obstinacy along with my stubbornness,
To cherish your sorrow along with my happiness,
To quench my greed through your contentment,
To shelter our union from every disappointment.

Only then can we mix every tear with a smile,
So that you and me can take us forward another mile,
For, only when each of us gives up control over what we hold,
Can we truly together possess everything we behold.

This one is for the Gazebo although it is inspired by head-over-heels impression of the movie Ye Maya Chesave. To put the point across in simple terms, love takes a lot of work. To build a monument called love, egos need to be crushed, boundaries need to be laid, bonds need to be cemented, beliefs need to be sculpted, trust needs to be concretized, emotions need to be polished, etc. It is much akin to making a diamond ring (the reason why the poem is titled Foundry).

To make a diamond ring, you need to cleanse the ore to get the gold, and that means burning it with a lot of acids. You need to melt the gold, pour it into a mould and wait for it to set. You need to clean the rough, choose a cut, and optimize the size. You also need to then set the stone in the gold. If any one of these stages was dispensed with, you might end up with either a rough stone on glittering gold, or a scintillating gem on a piece of ore. There is no middle ground, each of these has to let go of the things define them to become a thing that together defines them. The movie very beautifully captures the pain points that prevent each of them from reaching out to the other. We all need to go through that furnace together and burn our differences, melt our apprehensions, and mould our desires before we can truly become one. Each of us call its by a different name, but in the end, its all the same, unless each of us lets go, we can’t make it together.

Advertisements

Coated Gold

The widest smile fills your face, atleast till they turn their back,
Then the grimness hiding right behind, proudly comes back,
Not just the face, it claims more than its share of your mind,
Confident enough, to this defection, everyone else was blind.

It’s not often that these subdued expressions get a chance to relax,
The consciousness holds a tight rein, keeping them from getting lax,
Forcing them to stay till they seem convincingly imprinted,
Then the mind itself relaxes, happy at the facade well implemented.

Sometimes a frown, acting for an uninhibited glee,
Sometimes an earnestness, when waiting to flee,
Sometimes a grimace, pretending for appreciation,
Sometimes a twinkle, to cover up the deprivation.

Clenched teeth, all grinding against repression,
Sunken eyes, both hiding from depression,
Drooping ears, eagerly anticipating a decision,
Talkative lips, silently conveying indecision.

A collapsing mind, feigning absolute lack of fatigue,
A troubled conscience, pretending to belong to the league,
An anxious heartbeat, faking regularity and precision,
A determined life, practically without a mission.

Some stay for a few moments, mere fragments of time,
Others linger on, stubborn to the end of lifetime,
However long, each of them leave their mark,
Those rings of age, deep inside, behind the bark.

Few can read, the moment between the blink of the eyes,
For the rest, this hidden being, they are none the wise,
It is only when the sword is separated from its bejewelled sheath,
And heated in the furnaces of truth, can you see, what lies beneath.

This is another one for the Gazebo. For those who thought it was senseless, it was supposed to relate to the mask that we all wear through this play called life. Masks of happiness, masks of sorrow, masks of surprise, of delight, and those of anger, of despair. The reason I call them masks is because they are emotions that actually hide the real person underneath them, giving the person shade, while pretending to be the person.(went through something of this kind a few days back, and felt my system merited some cleansing)

The concept could probably be related to the ‘Facade’ portion of the ‘JoHari Window‘, in the sense that the portion not known to others could either be positive or negative, that is only known to the person itself, and therefore the covering to cover the positive or negative aspect of it from the observer. Just because an object is coated with gold, need not necessarily mean there is a baser material beneath, there could also be a possibility that gold was simply coated on gold itself, for what purpose, with what objective, each person knows in their own hearts.

%d bloggers like this: