The ‘P’ word . Perfection !


Perfection? Why do people strive for it? Isn’t perfection plain boring? I think so. I mean, if everything was predictably perfect all the time, things would never go wrong. When things do not go wrong, there is no last time rush of adrenaline , a run to fix things, an awkward moment, laughter, quips, constructive behavior.. i could go on and on. When things are perfect, you don’t learn anything. You don’t grow and in some ways, you don’t feel those potent emotions which make life worth living (Come on, a wee bit exaggeration wouldn’t hurt anybody, would it? ).

This of course does not mean that you should not strive for the best. It just means that the best can  be ordinary at times, and you should be able to deal with it, rather than being disappointed, dejected and become a runaway scaredy cat in search for the next best thing. The bubble will burst sooner or later, and boy oh boy, what a rude awakening , would that be.

Personally, i am scared of things which are too picture perfect.  It’s almost unreal. sigh-

My mind goes to the very much conservative verdict: Nazar lag gayi ( bad eyes/envy ), everytime something supposedly perfect smashes to pieces infront of me.

So, what should we do if things are going too perfect? In fact so much so perfect, that you cannot believe it yourself. Don’t advertise the perfection firstly, and secondly, be prepared mentally and emotionally, that perfection is short-lived and you should be geared for any eventualities, and the non perfectness of it all.

Am i being pessimistic? Nooo…  Just practical and geared up for reality, which tends to hit us hard in the face- like a bitch slap ( i can’t believe i said that- i am in a really mentally distorted state of mind, right now. )

Nobody is perfect. Nothing is perfect.

I’d like to paint the perfect sunset sky some day, and if i don’t get it right, i am going to smudge all the colours together and blend them, and let me tell you, for some reason, i am sure the results would leave me contented, because what i created , could not have been created, if i did not even try. And if i tore the painting, because it was not perfect, i would be letting go of a perfect canvas with hues and colours which have a beauty of their own, when there is no guarantee that i’ll ever be able to paint the perfect sunset…. what may be imperfect for me , may be perfect for another..

You should stop trying to mould people into the ‘perfection’ you would like to see. You should admit the thousand imperfections in yourself and admit that you are a work in progress like all the other people out there. So why not work together? Hmm? =)

“People throw away what they could have by insisting on perfection, which they cannot have, and looking for it where they will never find it- Edith Schaeffer”

Traveller of the Sea


Something very silly, but something which made me imagine each and every bit of the experience, as if i felt it.


A sea shell pressed to her ear

She listens to the music of the sea

Swish, swoosh , sway

A mermaid’s lullaby

She feels the warmth of the setting sun

That drowned minutes ago…

We had a conversation

The sun and me.

Giggles of the clown fish

Ghetto of the sharks

Tentacles of the octopus

And moans of a whale.

He showed me all

We travelled awhile

The seahorse and me.

She swims in her mind

Lap after lap

Somersaulting through blue waves

Feeling her lungs stretched..

She found a goldfish

Oblivious to her quest

Victim to short term memory

She closed her eyes

Pretended she was shimmer gold too

Bronze glitter dotting her cheekbones

Fins at her slender back

She was beautiful

As beautiful as the sea

She was there

With the goldfish and me.

As I lost myself

Into the hallucinating glow

Time stood still

The movements slow

Tentacles wrapped themselves

Around my floating body

And the little life line

Was ebbing away..

The whistle of the Delphinus

Beckoned me

And the grip over me released

Slate grey happiness

Lifted me away

Carrying me to a joyride

We laughed and cried

The dolphin and me.

I looked up

To the roof of the sea

The glistening surface

The blanket of twilight

The intoxicating atmosphere

I swam to the surface

We raced

The Dolphin and me.

I tore the seams of the surface

And bathed in silver rain

Bid adieu to underwater life

I floated in peace

Silent and still

We floated into eternity,

We let go of ourselves

And our misery..

We washed our souls

We breathed the night air

We felt the earth move

We were one,

Myself and Me.

© S.Mirza

2:02 p.m

18 January 2010

Monday

She and her Vanilla Sky


She can write jumbled yet sorted words
When there is absolutely nothing on her mind
why not, she asks quite cheekily in her way,
in empty corners, precious treasures, she finds.

You see, she does not have words
which compete in grandeur and eloquence
She simply tries to very simply state
Jumbled dreams and incoherent nonsense.

She is not scared of showing her bruised knees
or the scabs which dot her rather lovely heart
Her sad eyes, are infact full of mirth and joy
Her thoughts are whole, despite the assorted parts.

She is wary of drama, and the fashionable depression
Why not glorify laughter for the sake of yourself?
She likes trouble, dead ends, obstacles and turns
Jump, dodge and fight, keep boredom on a shelf.

She believes in goodness, naivety she celebrates
Been stabbed and played, but she still smiles
You cannot tear her optimism or break her dreams
You will still find her humming all the while.

She knows she is helpless, and knows HE pulls the strings
She knows her will maybe can change the scroll
Yet she gets stuck because she does not know to end
The journey on which she has absolutely no control.

So let her touch the imaginary sparkly stars
that twinkle with abandon in her solemn eyes
Let her spirit fly free, embrace candyfloss clouds
Let her take a big bite out of the vanilla sky.

© S.Mirza
24 December 2009 / Thursday
11:40 p.m

Disconnected


Stronger than bitter truth

Worse than a mere heartache

Insensitivity to emotions and plight,
understanding, belonging, life itself a fake.

Diminished importance, an atom’s existence,
Spoken, unspoken, it matters not,
There will no acknowledgment, no resistance
Realisation, from Lord, help should have been sought.

Despite such a cold demeanor, there are no complains,
Gladly relinquish her defense in this one sided trial,
Who would believe her anyways? Wasn’t there always laughter?
Who would remember the grin when even she forgot how to smile?

Life is perfect, life is the way it is supposed to be,
Spoons of choking sweet syrup, cut throat, heart slicing, sharp,knives
She is doing fine, they all say and I agree, she certainly is,
No breaking news here, she is just disconnected from life even though alive.

©S.Mirza
1:15 p.m
12 October 09
(after midnight)