A brief moment…of mystification.

Its amazing how one can be inspired to be a completely new person in one miniscule moment of creative outburst. Inspiration is not something that may be derived or instilled by the thoughts of what we see; it is a concealed, hidden and suppressed desire that is forever within us. It maybe the touch of a child on your face or the long untraveled mud track twisting and turning like a drunk bride passing between swaying pine trees ,just been washed by the rain last night and the sun has just begun to dab the moisture. It may be the eyes of an old and desirous man with the lines of the wrinkles meaning to give away the secret of the alibi of his life and the hands always searching for what he would have been, although unconsciously. Creativity is indeed our very own escape routes embedded within our souls to let the mind float away from not what you are but because of the fear of what you might become.
A million expressions evaporate unexpressed when the reality of our world knocks on the door of our dreams. One wonders why is it that the person with a benevolent yet aggressive creative instinct, capable of admiring and perceiving beauty only visible to the gifted eyes, fails to see reality. “The world is not a safe place”, is a kind of reality, which only a supremely creative mind can conjure with ease. While we, the normal daily mortals find everything so soothing and secure. Maybe because in the process of evolution we evolved with a preprogrammed conception of the world. It is this reality the creative fails to see.
One such moment occurred to be me while watching a movie, a story so simply and subtly told that it breaks the very walls of all the programs that we call “relations”. The program of being a mother, a son, a husband , a lover…there are laws and programs very lucidly laid down for succeeding in these bonds. Can there be a place where motherhood is not to be repaid and adultery is accepted as a mean to find more than provided. A place where nudity is not obscenity and love is only to cherish and not bind. Are we to live by these laws to the end? In the fear of the god and the society. God whom we created simply to either blame for our failures or use as a lethal and convincing force and weapon to pursue our selfish desires.
Society is what we created to hide behind when we fail to live up the parameters of this material world.
So where does the creative mind find the inspiration to see beauty in this deafening silence of ignorance and denial. Where does the creative mind seek peace in this raging, furious and belligerent vacuum of emotions? I find it hard to seek solace within me as the purity with which a child is born is murdered within minutes of his birth, when the father holds him and proudly diagrams its future as a successful material. The loud humming that we sometimes hear in our minds, in the moments of silence after a strident moment of confrontation, is the program of the world and its laws struggling against the dream fluttering inside for freedom.
I desire to be creative in these times still as for me there is still so much beauty in the blood spilt and the tears of an orphan. I have accepted that if I close my eyes to live the dream I have nurtured, the tears will be much more painful than the tears which roll down on the sight of a dying child.