Sunday, March 11, 2018

Of all the Wise Men and Fear

"Are you a wise man, papa?"
The words always seemed hollow to his ears. Months had gone by since he had last heard those words. Oh, what he'd give to hear those words again, to see the tiny head that belonged to that voice and those innocent eyes that seemed to align the stars in the universe. Oh, what he'd truly, truly do just to see his little boy again.

The small room got him extremely restless, but he had accepted his fate. He deserved this. His doing was his undoing and now he had to suffer the consequences. But memory is a strange thing. It didn't work the way he thought it would. He could rewind that terrible, terrible day second by second, memory didn't fail him then. But his little boy and the joyous youth he carried in the air around him every time he entered a room, seem but a fading distant memory.

But every time they met, the youthful wonder was slowly replaced by a burning fire. A fire that soon engulfed every bridge between them. His son's eyes seem to pinch his skin as they seemed to say, "Look at the arm that cradled me burn, watch it burn papa." His boy is almost been the most gentle human being has ever known. His son's gentleness was his greatest armour.

He always thought sorrow bought him love. He remembered the day he met her, a moonless night as they sat drinking under the stars instead, not a single worry in the world. Oh, the hopes and dreams they had, almost as if you could make physical manifestations of their dreams and hang them in the air that night. He knew he should be worried, fear the love that comes in sorrow, especially since she bought him out of a deep dark place, he knew he would drown in if she hadn't come by. He brought sorrow to everyone he loved, but love always came to him in sorrow. That night was dark and silent with no moon in sight, but she was the moon he needed and she gave him the biggest star of his life, his son, with eyes so kind, he wished to shield those eyes from everyone in the world.

His eyes became teary as memory started to fail him as the sound of the ocean became stronger than that of his son's. The cell walls shook with the anticipation of a great storm. He knew better than to fight it. He sent a silent prayer for his sins and wished and hoped nothing but all the happiness in the world to his son. The waves roared in anger, the anger of a gentle man. He smiled at his window as the waves crashed dangerously close to the gates. He felt the anger deep in his bones and shook with fear as he accepted his fate.

There are three things all wise men fear - the sea in storm, a night with no moon and the anger of a gentle man. 


"Are you a wise man, papa?"
"One day I will be just that. For you my love, I'd be the wisest of them all."



- fin

Here's a little something I wrote after one the quotes written by Patrick Rothfuss in the Kingskiller Chronicles. "There are three things all wise men fear - the sea in storm, a night with no moon and the anger of a gentle man."
To anyone who's into fantasy, these books are a great read. 



Sunday, March 4, 2018

Mind your heart

Dear Heart,
We've known each other for what, twenty years now? Wow, man she really is growing up fast. You and I have been in love with the same person for so long. Now for some, that would make you my competition. But I've never seen you like that. You're more of an equal I wish I got along better. For most parts, I want to be like you.

Now we may have never gotten along with anything. Why are you so goddamn different in everything? It's almost like all the logical and plausible explanations never make any sense to you. You stick to your guts, not thinking about the repercussions, while my warnings are taken for granted. Are you really that different from my every core setting or do you do it to get a kick from it? It never fails to surprise me, how two people who are so dissimilar, could be in love with the same person.

Opposites attract. Now that's a stereotype that didn't make sense for me, but you always believed in it. How can you be attracted to someone who is on a different page every time you read the same book. It's like two parallel lines that never meet. Where is our common ground? Maybe our common ground is the person we love. It's ironic, we spend all our times working countless to make her life better, but we end up confusing her to no ends. We give her sleepless nights and anxiety as she tries to make sense of our polarizing decisions. Little did she know, it's our genetic composition is to be the exact opposite of each other. You're a wild flame I keep trying to tame as you laugh precariously at my silly attempts.

Poets, authors and philosophers have spent their entire lives trying to make sense of us, yet nobody seems to explain our hot and cold relationship. I wish we saw more eye to eye because you see the world in colours that aren't in my palette. I calculate every outcome as you frivolously throw your hands to the wind, flying in any direction. Your lack of planning and research is worrisome sometimes, yet she seems to listen to you than my planned outcomes.  I envy that. I wish I could be more like you and maybe, just maybe she'd like to listen to me too?

They say the heart wants what it wants. But what about me? Why can't I get what I want? I control almost every other function of her body. All the muscles in her body sway to my every word, but not you. You're the main muscle that beats continuously to keep her alive. You and I are both aware that without your continuous work time, I don't exist. But without me, she doesn't exist as she does now.

I think deep down if it weren't for your compassion and kindness, our girl would never be who she is now. I teach the science and you teach the arts. I'm theory and you're philosophy. Who knew body parts also had favourite subjects? We're working tirelessly for the same university. The University of keeping our girl healthy and happy. My students are all the motor muscles while you teach the blood cells and those notorious hormones to be in check with the syllabus. The syllabus of her.

I know my syllabus of her becomes less vast than yours as our little girl becomes older, but your work never stops. I don't think I'll ever get a chance to thank you for that.

I love you with all the love I'm allowed to give by you.

So thank you, heart, thank you for everything.
With all my (figurative) heart,
Your partner in crime, Brain.  
Credits: theawkwardyenti