To Quill the Mocking World
By Somya Tewari
“Are you looking for me?” asked love.
“At the wrong places, for the wrong reasons, amongst the wrong symptoms” said love
“You are always in a hurry to hand out your heart, as if it is some sick organ, a hazard to you, futile and doomed to be donated.
You are allured by the hormonal rush.
You are blinded by the roaring wheelies and the desperate lightening;
You mistake the coughing and gurgling of sick thundering clouds for the voice of strength and pride” said love
“I am not a thunderstorm, I am not a hurricane.
I lack the excitement of arrival, the drama of occurrence, the arousal of existence and the attraction of adventure.
I am not that swirling force desperate to inscribe you in my core and then revolve around you. As if you are the sun of my solar system. As if you justify me. As if you are necessary to my revolution. As if only so much thrill would spare me your attention. I will not knock you out, or drain you.
Exhaustion!! Nope!! I am not that momentary.
Rather I am that drizzle, slow, gradual, unnoticed.
I come in parts. Pitter patter pitter patter.
Because a whoooof and a shooof and some dust specks here and twigs there cannot contain the circumference of me. I am not demeaning the intensity of storm, I am just saying I am not that one moment of glory, I am not that vodka shot.
I am not a spill; I am not a waterfall (as if I was some accident eh!). I am deliberate, like a shower. When I start dropping, you would not even notice.
I will be boring. I am not in a rush.
In fact, you might not notice me as water at all, because I will flourish in the greenness of your foliage, I will be that lightness of your mood, I will be that optimum temperature for a sound sleep, I will be chirping sparrows, I will be that germination of new thoughts in your heart, I will be that fresh breeze with your daily cup of tea, I will be that long walks you will dare to take given the pleasant scenery.
Yes, I will be that subtle. I will be the weather you are most productive in. That’s where you will see me, productivity charts, if at all.
I am not here to move mountains, break houses, overturn bridges, tangle up resources, or wreck chaos. I am here to widen the moors, to render growth, to build. I am past my days of destruction. I do not seek to dissolve your substance with mine, and confuse us. I won’t perish you, I believe in relief of existence, in sustainability, in love” said love.
“But ironically, you would not recognize me in all those symptoms. They are too obvious, too dull, too routine to catch attention.
And so it will strike you when I will leave.
Because when I will leave, it will be WINTER”
(Art: Somya Tewari)
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