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October 17 An artist asphyxiates!An artist lives in me...creative, free in the mind, liberated of sorts. But sadly I am choking it to a painful death. In the life that I am leading, there is no breathing pauses, a mechanical hum drum of seemingly important tasks to be completed. A rush for goals that seem inane, the true meaning of education robbed long back! What remains is an empty shell, that I keep shaking and rattling to soothe my disbelieving ears, as if to convince myself, this life is worth living!
A dancer lived in me, grew and blossomed with all the accolades he got when he was young, pleasingly performing for one and all! A logical mind also dwells in me, that went on clamouring for a life more practical, not one surviving merely on chunks of passion and creative juices. It craved for money, social recognition, a family and bit by bit, day by day, isolated the dancer. One bell at a time, the dancer's joyous foot work grew softer and softer. Till it turned to the stick of a dance teacher. Drawing new found vigour from the experience of sharing the dancer within, the hard sound of the hard stick, became the only soft mellow that echoed the past rythmic beating of the bells. But the mind wanted more and more for itself, claiming the conventional its sole raison d'aitre. Racing fast ahead, it grabbed for money and fame! None of which it really got, as the artist in me never valued it too much!
A writer lives in me, an easier art form to maintain and keep alive. And then blogging opened the doors for the pen to freely swithe, remaining a metaphor in today's techno times. The words rushed out, filled with joy and angst, loneliness and fulfillment. The essential being of the writer breathed, through its dusty layers of cobwebs! The writer bloomed, writing, writing and writing.... rather typing, typing and typing. However, soon, it was like looking for the flavours of a lemonade in a cocktail punch, becoming merely an exercise in imagination. The logical mind and the pressures it had created in its life were not far behind! A daily dilemma of choosing what is important as against what is right!
The artist sits tied to a chair, the dancer and the writer...waiting patiently, asphyxiating, without losing hope. When will its time come? Time to break free and sing and dance and write, as free as the clouds in the sky? When will the logical mind give up its false occupation with maya? When will the foot bells ring in harmony with every movement of the hand and the eyes? When will the fingers click, joyously typing every word that bursts out from the heart? Some day, when the world will be a cleaner place, with less pollution in the air and in the mind, when time will stand still, when eternity will be in a single moment and the world will stand still too to pause and watch the artist in me perform its glorious act of self expression! Till then, the artist waits for death in the gas chamber! |
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