reflections in words

Words intoxicate me. They set my mind ablaze, leading me to a place where I imagine my friends sitting next to me. I can envision an author of whatever, an email or a book or a treatise explianing his (or her) ideas, his emotions, his dreams, his knowledge to me- breaking it down, weaving words together as beautifully as a bride's embroidered dress. And when such words come from close friends, they are all the more delicious, able to make me lose focus of whatever I am doing, dragging me deep into memory lane. I am helpless against forces that sink me deeper into my daydreams, unaware of time, people and work.

Yes, it is safe to say, I am a servant (a mureed, for those of you who understand hindi) to words, I always have been. They have woven my life together, from one end to the present- from the time I uttered my first word, 'becac' (instead of the correct version, kebab - how fitting) till now, when I write the most intimate of my emotions, the most sacred of my thoughts out on this page, for all to see... bearing my chest so that you, whomever you might be, can see the scars and welts that time has endowed upon me.

Writing for me is therapy (how cleched that term is). What I love more than all else in this world though, is reading what others write. Often, my emotions leave me scrambling to understand what I am feeling when I have read a particular piece. Words have that effect on me, much more than voices and speech. Lots of people prefer personal communication to recieving an email, and while I appreciate the beauty of personal encounters too, there is certain stuff that I truly enjoy written down... so that I can read it again and again, enjoying and savoring its effect, the illusions it brings to my mind and the sheer truthfulness of its content.

However, in such cases, I run into a problem. My emotions run wild, I don't mean that I over-react, quite the contrary - I don't know how to react, actually. A tug of war game rages between emotions that I feel and emotions that I think I should be feeling. Should I feel sad at what I just read, or should I be happy? Should I appreciate what I have had, or what I have now? Should I smile or just stay in this limbo between gaiety and melancholy? Words fail me at these time, I become a slave to my own emotions, which lose track of their own path.

Someone speaking to you and being passionate is a powerful experience, I will be the first to admit that. Take Martin Luther King Jr.- his speeches, no matter where, never fail to send a chill down my spine. I can never undermine the love I have for the spoken word, but there is nothing more pure in this world than a well written, truthful email, letter or postcard.

A few months ago, a friend of mine was in Germany. He picked up a postcard and wrote a few lines on it, and mailed it to me. One day I came home and while watching BBC, dozed off on the couch. My father came home and placed the postcard on the sofa beside me. When I woke up, looking around I saw the postcard, I read it, comprehending who it was from, why and where. Then, a smile brok out on my face, a smile I carried for an hour only to be replaced with memories of my friend and I. Memories of walking through Cootes, of 8 am sessions, of his touque which he wore everyday, of his love for underground hip hop- and countless moments, phrases, quirks and quarks that will stay with me forever. All this, from two lines on a postcard depicting statues of soldiers in Germany.

Its a beautiful feeling to be spoken about, even more amazing to be written to. Which brings me why I have spontaneously penned this post....

I recieved an email from Nihal today, and this is my sort-of response to it. I don't think it has anything to do with the email, but then again, its what led me to write. Even after typing out this litany of phrases and comma-prone sentences, I am at a loss to describe my current state. Perhaps that is because I know I should feel sad, but am in fact happy. I think I should feel loss, when in fact I feel that I have gained, nay... that I have always had and will have great friends.

This is for you, my friends. I am here, always, listening, reading and above all appreciating you, for who you are and what your friendship has meant to me/made of me. Indeed, I am a better man today than when I first met you all. And for that my gratitude holds no earthly bounds.
Once again, words fail me, as I move towards using a word that is too callously used everyday to hold significance here. However, it is all I have, the only vestige of my raging emotions- my friends, thank you.