As we sip our daily coffee, the warm eclair of bitter bliss dances down our hoarse throats of incomplete sleep and periodical insomnia, our eyes are half sunken into our evanescent thoughts fading in and out, us barely awake. We are still dreaming, perhaps this coffee shall render me conscious and out of this REM of my brain cells. But why, aren’t dreams to be turned to reality? The morning chirper squeaks her little tell-tale through the verandah of my dusty apartment. Does she have something to say, perhaps a debt to be paid? A belief which exists narrates such that everything, every moment, every person you meet, every somebody and nobody has a particular purpose in your life. Seeing rebirth and reincarnation as a ‘business of the unseen dynasties’, our immortal souls all owe some karmic duty to someone and the people we meet are either indebted to us or vice versa due to certain dues in our previous births, and the people with which the ‘transactions’ are then complete, leave us. Just simply out of our lives. That soul in that someone’s body is officially done with us, in all cosmic, karmic, witchy-voodoo aspects. Every human connection can be explained thus and provides our inquisitive minds an insight too provoking to be neglected in the face of the boundless knowledge of the vast universe we are unaware of.
But I yet wonder, if someone is ‘done’ with us, the transaction is completed then why is that emotion not the same for me as it was for you, if that certain century-long debt is ultimately paid? If you left me as you got your end of the bargain, why isn’t the same held for me? Why do I still think about you if our bond has inevitably returned to cosmic dust just like my now shipwrecked soul and I am finally free of some ‘debt’? Ironic how our relation was literally some business game to you and to me a journey where we don’t owe each other feelings, but feel out of our own will, love without reasons. But you left as you met someone more business material and me indebted to this agony you’ve overthrown me with as collateral. This coffee will give sleepless nights nevertheless, the birds will screech disturbingly as they electrocute my flesh and bones with the taser of their unbound ecstasy, my ears ring. I’m stuck in this aura of heightened sounds and fluctuating migraines and nothing can change the fact that my very conscience has broken into invisible shadows and bleeding flashbacks.
But I have hope, like that of an innocent child. Not that I want my life to chime like the bell of that ice-cream truck entering into our hustling streets but maybe I just want the calm breeze to bring my mind some peace too, and not annoyance and a tingling itch to my scarred skin. Some purpose. Some meaning. I’m tired of suffocation. Because I will always be indebted to me for all excursions of my eternal soul, and I owe me life, dance, music, food, art, I owe me joy. I owe me love. And happiness is a choice which I shall choose for myself, by myself, through myself. I wanna fall in love with myself and for that I must accept myself the way I am, however I am. Why should I fall into this never-ending pit of self-hatred? I think I owe me love, I think I owe my scars some air, I don’t want to conceal them anymore, they deserve oxygen. I deserve love and I am capable of it, because I am a stronger being after your every pain you try to destruct me with. And I can stand on my feet with bleeding ankles and smile too. I can have a thousand reasons to cry and yet not cry and stay happy. It is all my choice. I can accept my wounds, however they are, I choose the pain to build my self-esteem, and not tear it down.
I’m broken but beautiful.
Hey Guys! So I posted something in this style again and I can’t help denying that I’m finding writing prose more fun than poems. Of course, I’ve kept my resolution, I’m writing more now that I’m on holiday, my examinations have ended! Also, with the Corona Virus pandemic, I’ve quarantined myself with more activities. Please take care of yourself, wash your hands with soap frequently and maintain social distancing. For my extrovert readers, it’s okay, you can get through this. And please do not take the risk of going out as much as possible. There are a bunch of stuff you can do, thanks to the Internet and its billion provisions, you can read a bunch of books, watch movies you’ve always wanted to. Call up your friends and family, keep your hearts close in spite of these necessary physical distances. Spend this solitude as satisfyingly as possible and try to enjoy this quarantine as much as possible.
So returning to the post, that belief does exist and I have not made it up and is known as ‘Runanubhanda’, according to Vedic Astrology, and is an existing physical as well as emotional bondage with our contemporaries. It can help us understand every encounter that happens in our lives with people, from friends to enemies. It reasons ever suffering we encounter in life with a ready made answer in the unfolding of the past life debts, both positive and negative, from our past.
The latter that follows just has one underlying message – you cannot control what you feel. Believe me. You can only accept them and accordingly take an appropriate decision. You cannot change your feelings, numb or suppress them, you can only affect the way you go about your feelings, how you deal with it. It’s okay if you weren’t okay. It’s okay to feel angry, hurt or sad. It’s okay and you do not have to beat yourself up for it. You’re only human, you learn and you grow. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. You are capable of love and it begins from you yourself. There’s a unique beauty in self-love and it’s never too late to fall in love with yourself. You will always be with you in this journey of life. There’s beauty in your scars, your pain, the hurt and you can heal and you will heal. You deserve more than painful love. Life is moving and the healthiest thing for your heart is to move with it.
Just believe in yourself. You’re worth having hope, no matter what💕
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Thank you so much for reading!