The Sea

As I leave my house today, I know I’d be entering the fiery evening. I had already seen the redness in the slanted rays of the sun that fell into my room. This evening has been bequeathed to madness. I have forgotten to bind my hair. I have forgotten to paint my lips. I have forgotten to empty my nakedness into a bowl of shame.

I know the glowering evening sun makes my skin seem a mustard orange. The people around me in their ordinary trousers and shirts are quietly considering my eyes. The sun has entered the windows of my eyes. My hair longs to be lifted up in a wild spree of mad uninhibition.

As if it were a dream a sea breeze lifts my hair up in its own madness to kiss everything in a hurry. Suddenly everything falls silent. I find myself still walking down my staircase in a hurry to reach the next landing. Every landing is deja vu. In the darkness of the staircase and the grilles that weave little webs of spidery light, I feel like I’m in an infinite whirling road winding downwards.

Now I’m on the road the sun enviously wiping my colour off me and replacing it with its own. The treetops shimmer like torches. A breeze disturbs the vehicle sounds without a warning. Birds are returning home. They too believe. Mad world.

The sea shore eats my soul up with every step into its nudeness. I find myself singing a song. Another madness wants me to quit singing. The approved madness. The accepted madness. The madness of the silent. The madness of the spectator. The madness of the passive hermit. I peel this madness off me with deliberate defiance. The former madness is easy to remember. We are trained for it from childhood. The latter madness is difficult yet is permanent.

Now I’m holding onto the sides of an anchored ship, now I’m sailing on the sea blue yacht, now I’m the boat with the dark-skinned fisherman, now I’m the writhing fish in his net, now I’m the lights that wake up like dragon eyes at twilight, now I’m twilight with its thousand children feet running, now I’m the smell of salt and sea, now I’m wild hair, now a beholder, next the beholded, now a breath and then a single abandoned bird hurriedly flying after its clan racing ahead.

This evening has been bequeathed to madness. I hear the conversations of a thousand men. Money worries, mother-in-law worries, exams, exultation, kites, kisses, crabs, catamarans… I stand inane, unblinking like a fish eye. Into the sea lies my destiny. Like one of Chekhov’s heroines I have considered dying by lightning. It does not fascinate me. Nor do I wear red like that woman and speak of dying seasons with blushing cheeks. I’m another creature at the infinite sea shore. At the sea that orgasms with several white bones and churns out the of flavour of lifeΒ  by tonnes. The sea does not see if I’m Shelley. It swallows like an organism. Like the whale that puked Jonah, the sea regurgitates bleached bodies of young lovers, bad swimmers, boys who failed exams and poets.

The sea is insomniac. Such passion overcomes its being that it cannot let go of anything. It chews and ruminates and only sea shells survive its restlessness. Such a sea stretched before me like a huge conundrum. Its only foil was the sky. A counterpart spitting stars. A sudden madness overtook me and I began walking. Away from the sea. Away from the kite illusions and the bird illusions. I walked away from the sand that swallowed my toes. I walked away from the roads, from the breeze, from my wildness, from the need to escape. I ran away from prospective death. I walked back into the madness called life. I walked back into the incorrigible madness called life. I declare myself incapable of death as much as I’m incapable of life. I could not… could not walk away from the sea within myself.

16 thoughts on “The Sea

  1. Intense! Insanely great! I have been to the edge too. Living on the edge always. I try everyday to jump. But I can’t. Every sentence you have written is just too deep. I love you. πŸ™‚ Leave the Choc Man and embrace me. You wont regret. We can jump together. πŸ˜€

  2. πŸ™‚ Hahah… of course I do love you dear… like I love the sea and the many things it surrounds…. across the sea and under the sea…

    I don’t believe in leaving one person to love another… there is enough love for everyone. πŸ™‚

  3. Good creativity.. you made me to feel like u . Even i like sea…

    well written.. One chocolate is waiting for u..

  4. oh i meant tides are caused in the night raging when men are asleep and by day the sea is usually calm, snoring almost.. and insomniacs are not necessarily nocturnal – cioran a notorious example, walking by day in the clouded streets of Paris among crowds of men oblivious to him…

  5. It is pure perception… I see the daytime waves as the listless activity of an insomniac… not that it sleeps anyways…

    Insomnia is sleeplessness…. because we are all usually expected to sleep at nights and if we do others things instead of sleeping, then we are nocturnal insomniacs.. not by choice.

    Show me the sleeping sea though! πŸ™‚

  6. Like you said, it’s pure perception. Perceptions vary betwixt individuals. My interpretation of the sea is varied. You cannot just correlate the sea with death and/or destruction. The sea creates life too. In manifolds that makes terrestrial life seem paltry. Besides the sea is but a shadow of the vast oceans that lay yonder. I know that what you wrote was spur of the moment, and that it reflects your feelings. But I did expect better from you than to slander the sea. The sea within you is contemporary (never be so unsettled as to destroy your mind), but the sea without is perpetual. Do not relay your emotions through such subtle channels. The sea does sleep – when it wishes to. (Thats the animate way of putting it) I’ve seen it sleep at night too, for long hours, with gentle, undulate snores. I can go on and on, but I shall shut up, lest I induce a war of words upon me.

    By the way, your style of writing, although vague, is unique. I appreciate it. But I would recommend a simpler, more vivid writing pattern so that many more people can understand what you’re trying to convey. πŸ˜‰ My friend was telling me that he could make neither head nor tail of several of your posts.

    See ya! πŸ™‚

  7. Why don’t you write about the sea the way you see it? Why ask me to see the world the way you see it? I DO NOT write for others. Thank you for the long comment.

  8. Hi again. Well, it seems I’ve hit a nerve somewhere. Really sorry about that. Didn’t mean to. I thought comments are meant to voice other’s opinions. I just voiced mine. I’m not a good writer anymore (once used to be), and certainly nowhere as good as you are. (honestly) Besides I’m lazy too. But I may consider writing later on…

    I did not ask you to see the world the way I see it. (Really wonder from where you arrived at that conclusion) No one can do that, not even me. There were only two reasons for my commenting so. One being that I am passionate about Nature and all its aspects, including the Sea. The other is that I was just trying to invoke some optimism. (If you’ve read my comment carefully, you’ll know where and how) Really sorry again if I offended you in any way. I take life with a pinch of sugar, not salt. I completely respect your thoughts. I am still learning life…

    About the writing part, never mind. It was just that my friend was telling me that you write too Hi-fi. Don’t mind me, I’m pretty crazy at times. (well, mostly all the time) I often follow the “Don’t take life too seriously” attitude.

  9. Hahaha.. you read too much between the lines. I have been keeping a blog for a while now and different people tell me different things. There might be another time when I’d perceive the sea very optimistically. A piece of writing is open for interpretation and criticism. Just that I am too indifferent to worry about what others think. To me the process of writing is more important than the by-product called the text. I hardly care for what comes out. To me writing is a form of sublimation and a catharsis. At other times it is a shedding or pride or a celebration of life. As such the poor text is just something that is a fall-out in this drama.

    It does not matter to me what the sea is. It may not even matter to me how I saw the sea at that time. It may not matter how people read the sea in my writing or in their minds. There is enough room for a thousand contradictory ideas.

    I am a very serious person. I don’t know if it is by choice or by chance. Though I’m perceived as a shallow, silly person in real life. That is just a facade. Anyways all that is irrelevant.

    In this piece of writing, this is how the sea will remain. After a baby is born one does not want to change the way it is.

  10. The piece, I felt, was more about the madness that swings like a pendulum within one, than the sea as such. Like the tides ebbing and flowing, different forces pull me around in different directions…but it is that madness which keeps me sane, if you know what I mean!!!

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