Heart Crossings

The most constant thing in your life, a heartbeat, often bridges you to the most mercuric and intriguing world.

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Listen to your heart at times. Listen to its soft words that reverberates in the uniformity of the night. Let it take you swinging back to those secret stories that you have once lived and which are now written in the depths of your heart, in its deepest corners where you have left them sealed in some unmarked graves.

Listen to your heart as it wheedles you. In the hour which sees the orchid bloom to the dying night, let your heart open one of the graves in its bosom. The stories therein are your small secrets, the sweetest treasures of your life. Cherish them as secretly as the orchid’s bloom. And before the morning dew sets in, put them back to their buried state.

Go back to the arms of the lover who gifted you the first rose or the one who drew your initials in his arms in blood. Tell him now what you could not tell him then – that you were scared to see the scar, but then secretly loved the act. Add a few portions of spice to that story and take it to an evening where you could feel the scar liberating your deepest feelings. Won’t you uncover now what you have not discovered in your entire life – the tender feelings of a young heart?

Go to the moment when you had your first kiss, and the moments thereafter when you went back home wondering why every stranger on the road was staring at you. Your excitement was clearly overshadowed by the fear that you were an amateur kisser and more by the fear that some relative or family friend has seen you. Try to feel that kiss today without the shadow of the fear cloud, but with the same newness that your abused lips cannot buy anymore.

Go back to the long hours that you spent staring into nothingness in your drunken stupor. Try recollecting the promises that you made that day. Someday, I’d do this… I’d do that… And what not… You’d definitely end up drawing a line to where you would have been if you would have fulfilled all those promises. Well, if that would-have-been state makes you to feel miserable, don’t try to find an antidote. Instead, let that feeling sink through your pores as well. Afterall, what is life without some small regrets that you don’t care about much, but which pops up like a swarm of stinging bees when things don’t seem to be moving?

Go back to the class of the professor who lived in your fantasies. To the moments when the size of your room-mate’s breasts prompted you to look into the mirror everyday, to check if you were anywhere nearer. To the day when you hugged your mother before boarding the train to the city, till the time you realized the worth of that hug and the fact that how meagerly they were placed in the scale of time…

Let these ticketless voyages remain a small secret – stories that are your own. Every time you visit it, garnish it with the best fantasies that the juices of your mind makes available in that moment. Soon you will start making different recipes with the same ingredients but with different proportions of emotions, drama, clairvoyance, adventure and surrealism – proportions to suit your mood of the day. This when cooked with the base story that you have already lived, will be just right for your heart.

Serve it well...