The sound of the rains and me have a very deep connect. It has been raining in New Delhi. Sometime back it rained hard. A white incessant noise, so intense and pure, that it stilled all other sounds of life. I could only hear the sound of my inner being.
Just as I had heard it almost five years back, when I decided to slaughter myself.
It was raining that day too. It seemed the rains remorselessly washed the self imposed veil over my eyes off ,all that which I clung to in the hope of being ‘grounded’.
I always wondered why the moon and the dark waters called out to me. I questioned myself whether those around me, with fixed smiles and still eyes, could also see in the dark like me. I told myself that they are pretty, nice and sweet and I should be like them. I must tame that free spirit, that voice inside me which makes me yearn to burn like the sun.
So I cloaked my wild self. I covered it in comfort, normalcy and convenient emotions. I acted out the role I chose for myself perfectly. In a relationship with an ordinary man whose only dream was to make money, I played the perfect wife and hostess. In a job which was safe and secure, I played the role of the perfect subordinate to those above me and the perfect leader to ones below.
I was in a dull comfort zone. I stopped growing.
Then it rained one day. I went and stood out for hours.
I hacked away at myself brutally, patiently and gracefully.
I was in pieces, raw, bleeding. I could see my bones. I saw my naked soul. I saw my unhinged mind.
I broke that self imposed cage and stepped out. It was terrifying. I had become used to tameness, mediocrity and security. My wings had been cramped for so long that I could not unfurl them. My voice was rusty.
It took me time to re-metamorphosise into my old self. In my previous world of fire and rapture, the man who gloried in my darkness, depth, emotion, passion and who had waited for me to return, came striding out to meet me ecstatically . I smiled firm and strong,when within the amorphous shackles of my socially successful job, I created my own space that allows me to grow from strength to strength.
I realize today that everything that holds you back on the shores needs to be butchered with an unrestrained brutality. So Rumi says “In the slaughterhouse of love, they kill only the best, none of the weak or deformed. Don’t run away from this dying. Whoever’s not killed for love is dead meat “.
Power to those of you who will dare to hack yourself bare and seek the fire and the sun.You will burn. But then “you must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame;how could you rise anew if you have not first become ashes ?” ( Nietzsche)
( photo from the Internet for illustration only)