Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Memories of a harlequin melancholia


Infinite questions, an inane pursuit and a treacherous bridge of uninvited intricacy delicately weaving them together – Yes, sometimes life betrays! I feel so vulnerable, so petrified, so vacuous and so very inebriated by my overwhelming fears. You could accuse me of pondering over what to ink down, but consequently, I wouldn’t give a wide berth to your accusations, for though acerbic, they portray a poised and unvarnished axiom.
Perhaps, no; It is not a void fribbling away in my soul, it is a medley of harlequin melancholia. Surprisingly, Life has never been modestly scrupulous. When you assume no masquerade, and are appeased with the genuine ‘you’, some officious paramour of Satan veils your persona with an imaginary exaggerated tag of ‘fraudulence’ and makes sure that your juvenile alacrity evanesces in a tempest of despondency. Yet would you succumb and embrace the ever-austere ethos of saccharine buoyancy and pseudo altruism, life wouldn’t bother to smile upon you either. That’s one modicum of advice, the twelve years of banality at my alma-mater have hurled at me!
Although I adulate innuendos, I’ll dodge it for now. Three years from today, down the corridors of yesterdays and yester-years, I seamlessly reminisce what a churlish bitch I used to be. I had this impolitic hauteur and undying imprudence that embellished all my narcissistic instincts, but though relentlessly impugned, the chances of my vain aplomb being immured in an abyss of impasse were assuredly synonymous to triviality. May, be I wasn’t agreeable to an infinite majority, but life sure seemed agreeable to me, so ‘my-way’ and unstained with baseless accusations. But somehow, succumbing to the umpteen accusations hurled at my blessed arrogance, I let an invincible opacity envelope my whole being. Being opaque is so exacting, but when you conceal your genuine temperament and let people assume you’ve blended yourself with their vibes (for a good many presume solely their preferences to be superlative), life bestows an ephemeral clemency. But for the herculean endeavors, all I get as a souvenir is chagrin again (Perhaps, she adores my insaner eccentricities). How deplorably cabalistic could it get!
When you are crowned with the badge of honor, a tiny rectangular piece of metal, with cyclopean deferential influence, something for which you’ve nurtured an adulation and appetence, all the eleven long years, you feel like life couldn’t have offered an jubilation better saccharine, but ironically the sun impales your rainbow arch, eroding it before you could the golden pot of opulent bliss at its end, and you, resigning to the harrowing aversion people nourish against you, abandon the badge and console your inconsolable self, for a moment, life seems like an incessant and expanse of unsurpassable chagrin, a moment that again seems an eternity (And worse still, you have to have this annoying facades of bliss and fake smiles etched on your face, all the while). When you are accused of being romantically inclined to some deservingly popular comrade (As if love is an unpardonable peccancy!) and soon, you yourself are vanquished by the uncanny veracity in the accusation, but almost every other entity pushes it a little too far and eventually the delicate threads of unacknowledged mutual penchants entangle and lose their verve…. When you’re once-upon-a-time close pal is ruined by the incurable affinity towards any fool of the opposite sex, along with being consumed by a ridiculous proclivity to the Dollars and parallel sanctimony – You can’t help but fling the epistles of camaraderie at the hearth and see the ink on paper dance way into oblivion, under the arabesque clemency of the phantasm of fire. When you know your prissy heart gives refuge to predilection for a certain him and a her and another her from the three scores of teachers, and for a few blissfully roguish, but adorable fellow-classmates as well, but you get seized by a tempest of qualms, the fears of being uncompromisingly abhorred by them, you rile your sanity and throttle the remnants of your sangfroid and complacency, within a triangle of abysmal remorse, amaranthine decadence and towering emotional mayhems. When you know your first crush, was such an insane random choice, so very barbaric and bizarre that you can barely break your cocoon of recondite but unblemished sagacious and poised- silence and when you feel so ‘nothing’ for the long lost friend, you had held so close you your heart and so etched to your memories for the past seven years, but now all the penchant seems to have wasted and marred itself in the Armageddon of empathy, just after stumbling across her out of the blue, you just can’t help but let the insatiable frustration, consume your heart and mind, both of which now stand shattered into a million of evanescent dew drops, each a testimony to my cacophonous melancholy.
Twelve years at St. Joseph’s, of which the last saw me dying a twelve thousand deaths, saw someone who flaunted and her amour-propre, reduce into a quasar of mortification, a hatred for being who she was, saw a gullible someone brimming over with aplomb, stammer and forget how to entrust another for the rest of eternity, someone lose the last hopes of regaining her unduly snatched acumen… But that era is over now; it has been gathered to an elision. No more mornings where my mom would caress me and consoling my fears, coax me to go to school, no more assemblies where my petrified self would try its best to be out of any teacher’s sight, lest she should call me a defiant bitch from the inside and grin on the outside, no more breaks where I would confine myself to the class-room of X-C, just to be away from Mephistophelian cynic … No more St. Joseph’s; Just an empyrean bliss at the thought of embracing the new insecurities of tomorrow’s unknown ventures and blooming from a new caramel bud, under a new agreeable sun and yet another bliss at the thought of sewing up school-life.
It could never get harder to push a pencil, for me…. Well, sometimes it’s best to cling on to my invincible opacity and muffle my vagabond musings and barbaric emotions with a solitary thread of pristine reticence.
Oh! I just discovered the thread is overwhelmingly fragile… pity.