Kintsukuroi

It is not the pain of rejection
But the sting of looking into the question
"What could have been?
In the world, what we could have seen?"
That brings your day to a halt.

You ask yourself, what was true, and what was not
Because in the confusing labyrinth of your heart you sought -
Clarity, brevity, a joy in knowing "this is not wrong"
An ode to eternal happiness, a Myna's love song.
And then, one day, it comes crashing down, tumbling apart.

It is then that you question the actions you took

Search for a REASON in every cranny and nook 

And find that there are no answers in the at the end of the day 

Nothing to bring back that stability, no price you could pay.

And there you are, stuck in a limbo between past and present.

 

You sit there, shattered amongst a million pieces of your conscious,
Losing all faith and youthful time (that you don't realize is precious),
Looking up into the Empyrean, asking the Almighty, why me?
Blinded by the pain, and melancholy all you see.
It leaves you to ponder, where do I go from here?

With a weakness that is stagnant, you one day, see glimmering hope.
There comes that vessel, that rescuing ship of life that helps you cope.
It stops by, looks at you and says, "Do you need a hand?"
With immeasurable support, you take its help, and finally stand.
Maybe there is a way out after all. Maybe there is light in this shrouding darkness.

And here you stand today, rebuilding the strength you long lost;

Maybe it's possible to go to the past, but at what cost?

You remind yourself to look only at what lies ahead,

Focus on people who value YOU instead.

Today you are closer to the best version of yourself. 

8 days.

25/7/2014 - 1/8/2014

'Saata hai?'

'Haan ji, saata hai.'

I have been so accustomed to those words over the past few weeks that my response to the question has become almost sub-conscious. 'Saata hai' roughly means 'Are you feeling okay?' in Marwadi and the reason people asked me that was because I went on a fast for 8 days - an "Athai" in Jain terms. For the fast, I was to drink only boiled water from sunrise to sunset. No food, no juice, no nothing. I lost eight kilos during the event and also some of my already scarce strength.

Those 8 days were a period of self-reflection, introspection and a lot of sleep. Along with testing my body's endurance, I found that the biggest challenge for me was to gain control of my mind. My mind which kept wandering towards the smell of food from the kitchen, the view of pastries from the bakery next door and to images of exotic dishes shown in cookbooks at home.

The fast also allowed me to think about my life in a way that only an extended fast can make you. From a very primeval perspective, the first and foremost task of any living creature is to nourish itself, to survive. To voluntarily curb that particular, heavily-ingrained instinct felt like a monumental task. But on its accomplishment, I had feelings I didn't anticipate.

I felt free. I felt victorious.

The most important aspect of Jainism is saiiyam, or self-restraint. It is said by restricting the self, the impurities of the soul reduce and the individual is closer to moksha, or eternal salvation. I certainly didn't feel that I was closer to any sort of salvation, but a certain kind of peace did engulf me in the last few days of the fast. I felt vibrant and positive. I seemed to liberate myself from emotions that caused me pain. Honestly, it felt so weird, but it also felt really, really amazing.

So to you, the reader, I challenge you to do this. Restrict yourself from food for a day and tell me if you feel the same way. Perhaps it's all just my over-thinking brain addled with a loss of nutrients that made me experience all this. But perhaps it's not. And that is exciting!