Posted:
For Aahana, my dearest. (see what I did here? ;) )
And whoever reads this, please let me know in comments even if you think it's crap (because I know it is. Idk what I was thinking. And if I ruined Omkara for you, forgive me.)
***
'I'm an artist.
But to be honest, I don't quite understand the nuances of art. And I'm not even trying to be humble.
The fourteen year old me was an introvert and for him, broken families inspired art. Not having friends inspired art.
Back then, being an artist meant to run away from emotions that gripped my heart while I flinched in pain. An escape route.
The fifteen year old me wanted to rebel. He understood that in life, one was all alone.
One day, you stop loving.
One day, everything just withers away.
One day, you look at yourself in the mirror and the spark you knew you saw, is lost.
I'm an artist and I don't fully understand the enormity of being one.
I see in eyes a dark room lit with fire.
When I was seventeen, I was enraged. Give me a canvas and I'd paint it blood red. Then I'd hapazardly brush it in strokes of black.
I am a man of principles with a lot of rage, loneliness and pain residing in me. And yet, I am an artist who believes that love conquers all.
I was eighteen and I denied the idea of God and yet I carved idols of them out of rocks and stones.
I was a 'life-giving' artist back then.
I believe in destiny. I believe that miracles happen in life. I am hopeful it would happen to me, too.
I am a man with principles so rigid and contradictions too many.
I'm an artist.
And hence, I am ironical. What I think, speak and feel seem very strange to me as well.
I'm an artist for whom colors exist and somehow the transition between them doesn't.
Ishana, your extremities of emotions burn me and I'm reduced to ashes.
And the heart of this artist suddenly defies its own principles.
We are two people who carry in them, the deepest melancholy.
You and me. And in between us, the sadness. A common tune.
Who says the result is always a combustion?
I beg, I plead. Warm me with the fire you carry in your eyes.
You are what I don't have and what I desperately need.'
Omkara looks at me with expression of a soldier who has lost a friend in war.
No.
In fact, its that defeated expression of a man who has lost himself and finds nothing to look forward to in life.
That's scary.
My heart is anguished. This man, whom I so dearly love, looks at me with so much of hope andit frightens me to think- what if I don't have enough strength?
I walk to him and he holds me in an embrace. This man hands over his heart to me. The weight of his world shifts unto my shoulders.
In his embrace, my shoulders don't droop down and I don't falter and drop to my knees due the weight of our collective worlds.
This man, who is still apprehensive to call himself an artist, tells me that he'd find himself if he has me.
This man doesn't burden me with his muses. He makes me realize how two human beings can synchronize even in the oddest of tunes.
He makes me realize that we don't have to give and take and amend for each other.
That we'd be together would be enough for both of us.
***
And whoever reads this, please let me know in comments even if you think it's crap (because I know it is. Idk what I was thinking. And if I ruined Omkara for you, forgive me.)
***
'I'm an artist.
But to be honest, I don't quite understand the nuances of art. And I'm not even trying to be humble.
The fourteen year old me was an introvert and for him, broken families inspired art. Not having friends inspired art.
Back then, being an artist meant to run away from emotions that gripped my heart while I flinched in pain. An escape route.
The fifteen year old me wanted to rebel. He understood that in life, one was all alone.
One day, you stop loving.
One day, everything just withers away.
One day, you look at yourself in the mirror and the spark you knew you saw, is lost.
I'm an artist and I don't fully understand the enormity of being one.
I see in eyes a dark room lit with fire.
When I was seventeen, I was enraged. Give me a canvas and I'd paint it blood red. Then I'd hapazardly brush it in strokes of black.
I am a man of principles with a lot of rage, loneliness and pain residing in me. And yet, I am an artist who believes that love conquers all.
I was eighteen and I denied the idea of God and yet I carved idols of them out of rocks and stones.
I was a 'life-giving' artist back then.
I believe in destiny. I believe that miracles happen in life. I am hopeful it would happen to me, too.
I am a man with principles so rigid and contradictions too many.
I'm an artist.
And hence, I am ironical. What I think, speak and feel seem very strange to me as well.
I'm an artist for whom colors exist and somehow the transition between them doesn't.
Ishana, your extremities of emotions burn me and I'm reduced to ashes.
And the heart of this artist suddenly defies its own principles.
We are two people who carry in them, the deepest melancholy.
You and me. And in between us, the sadness. A common tune.
Who says the result is always a combustion?
I beg, I plead. Warm me with the fire you carry in your eyes.
You are what I don't have and what I desperately need.'
Omkara looks at me with expression of a soldier who has lost a friend in war.
No.
In fact, its that defeated expression of a man who has lost himself and finds nothing to look forward to in life.
That's scary.
My heart is anguished. This man, whom I so dearly love, looks at me with so much of hope andit frightens me to think- what if I don't have enough strength?
I walk to him and he holds me in an embrace. This man hands over his heart to me. The weight of his world shifts unto my shoulders.
In his embrace, my shoulders don't droop down and I don't falter and drop to my knees due the weight of our collective worlds.
This man, who is still apprehensive to call himself an artist, tells me that he'd find himself if he has me.
This man doesn't burden me with his muses. He makes me realize how two human beings can synchronize even in the oddest of tunes.
He makes me realize that we don't have to give and take and amend for each other.
That we'd be together would be enough for both of us.
***
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Indian Premier League
