My dear wall ,

For the first time I realise, I neglected you for more than three months.  You had been my best friend, who was always with me, a confidante, for more than 8 years.  I wrote on you my deepest pleasures, I wrote on you my disappointments, I cried on you over my miseries.

What's happening in my life?  It's been a roller coster ride.  Ups and downs.  Forty five is a difficult age.  An age when you are confused if you are young or old?  Just like adolescence there are changes in your body, mind.  One day over the moon, the next deep down the dungeon. You become a misery for people around you. From someone who doesn't expect anything out of anyone, slowly you start to expect some response, a reciprocation of actions, words, gifts.  When they don't materialise, you are deep down the rut, sympathizing with yourself and end up loathing yourself and make them loathe you too.  But, can't help but wonder, why it is tough for people to be attentive, why are they rushing, where are they rushing to?  Why can't they stop and take the time to look or appreciate things on their way? It is only fair or isn't it?  Should not spontaneity be a trait to everyone?

This exactly was why, I neglected you. I don't want my folks or friends to see me like this, after I am long gone,  I want them to remember the cheerful Viji, who takes that extra mile to keep people happy. But, what the hell If I can't talk to you my dear wall, who else can I talk to?

There are some good times too, a new job, few new challenges, new young minds to work along. Life is good in that end.  Family, is good.  My son turned 20, turning into a responsible young man.

Trying out few new things I feel that I truly deserve, a huge silver nose pin for example, getting that was the most beautiful moment.  Seeing my friend's, new born.  Couple of trips out of Chennai.

What more?  Nothing, except the terracotta clay is lying untouched for 2 weeks now. The huge canvas along with paints, lying idle too.  All this blabber, trying to figure out when this phase will pass.  I long to roll in to a ball and sleep for days and never to wake up for few days, weeks, years, decades, maybe a life time. But, I refuse to give that pleasure to me. I refuse to stop.

Dear wall,  I know and I am sorry it is not a happy post or a poem with all those rhymes, that you might feel proud to wear. I know, I bequeath you with a massive frame, with no painting, not a dash of colour, not a sketch, not even an alphabet.  I know if you can, you will delete this post.  But, let it remain.  I want this to be a milestone post, to measure my happiness in the coming weeks.  A yard stick, that will give me the satisfaction to probe and feel the hurt or like a feather soothe the pain, all self created.  This deep rut I had been in for sometime now, the happy face I show to the world is tiring even to me.  God save those people who are connected to me in social networking sites.  It they see picture of a piece of nose sticking out, or the long agony aunt posts, some half boiled photographs... I hope they don't curse me.

So my dear wall, enough of me.  Tell me about you, how are you apart from losing your followers, (a few I remember by names, I don't blame them), apart from feeling neglected, apart from bearing few bitter, sad, melancholic posts, do you feel otherwise good?

Au Revoir friend.  So long... yeah, will be back soon if my spirits lifts up or I won't be back.

Warm Regards,
Viji