Monday, February 15, 2010

What a gorgeous bitch!

At the time this photo was taken things were not at all well with me. But honey every thing is relative and whatever else I haven’t achieved down the line, a sense of perspective ain’t one of them. For those of you who aren’t that much into convoluted sentence structures let me give the translation, ‘down the line, I have achieved a sense of perspective’. So that means I realize that compared to folks who had lost limbs, all their money, their parents, their children, their husbands, fiancés and fiancées , deprived of their looks in acid attacks and accidents, found out they have cancer, had to juggle a career, an education and back stabbing colleagues while at the same time witnessing their fathers and mothers die slowly and painfully at home, in relation to the entire cataclysmic range of potential human suffering I was really having a picnic; I suppose some would say; my mother for instance, who with robust good sense has consistently insisted that the only thing wrong with me was that I had it too easy.

But still things were pretty bad for me at the time this photo was taken. Forces of darkness were assailing me and instead of busting a gut laughing at how very trivial, how petty, how dismissible these forces were, I was keeling over, turning up my toes and getting ready to die, loosing hope, doing a cop out, hanging the closed sign on my shop door while the day was still fine and customers were still queuing up outside.

I was seriously out of shape (everything is relative, just keep that in mind reading that statement) and didn’t have the motivation to do anything about it. I felt I was pathetic and unpleasant and nobody worthwhile would ever want to have anything to do with me. It was going down hill and not even trying to pull the brakes, because of the certainty that they won’t work.

I literally felt the darkness. I would get up from a nap in the afternoon (I took a lot of naps because the only time I felt at peace was when I was sleeping) and for a moment between sleeping and waking; actually see that the day had darkened around me. My bio rhythms were slowing down, my aura was turning murky. In a nutshell dear friends and neighbours, I didn’t have my shit together. I was several light years from having my shit together.

This photo was taken during such a time. I don’t remember the exact year, but guess it was the middle of the naughties (for those among my friends who don’t have the hip quotient to understand the term naughties; and that is most of you except maybe ashan dilgith; I am well aware what an unhip bunch of friends I have got; see there were the eighties, the nineties and then the naughties. Ged it you unhip clod hoppers? Heh heh)

To come back to the point, all the other photos from this session look horrible and nauseating at least to me and I would have you know that I have consigned them long since to the flames. But this pic… Ah this is another story altogether. At this moment, the camera has managed to capture the essential me. Me before the petty darkness came; me for whom every day used to be a day under the sun. It’s sort of a miracle because unless you are a ballet teacher with real keen eyes scouting for talent, you can’t even see that it’s an out of shape bod. The only explanation I can think of is that, even when malignant, pathetic personalities are in the driving seat of our psyches, the real personality struggles all the time to wrest control; and from time to time actually succeeds at least for a fraction of a second, and during such a millisecond of my life, the camera captured it.

I am putting this up to tell you that, no matter how dark you think it is, the real you is still down there, still struggling to come on top and do keep on fighting to give the poor bastard or bitch a chance. Because she or he is the best part of you and deserves a chance.

Pretty corny what? All this fuss over a perfectly ordinary pic some of you might think. Well I don’t think so. So there! Take it or leave it.